


The Sons of Efrafa: U Methrah Thlayli

by ubernoner



Series: The Sons of Efrafa [2]
Category: Watership Down - Richard Adams, Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-09-13 20:13:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 42,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16899147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ubernoner/pseuds/ubernoner
Summary: Before the founding of Zootopia, there was a time of superstition and violence. These are the stories of ancient Efrafa. This is the story of Thlayli.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Copyright Disclaimer
> 
> The following is a work of fanfiction: there is no intent of this author to violate, transgress, profit from or infringe upon the Copyright and Intellectual Property (IP) rights of the parent Copyright or IP holders of characters, events or locations belonging to the same which may be contained within this work. To reiterate; this is a Derivative Work meant to be used under Fair Use as described in 17 U.S.C. § 101 and § 107.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the founding of Zootopia, was a time of superstition and violence. These are the tales of ancient Efrafa; this is the story of Thlayli

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright Disclaimer
> 
> The following is a work of fanfiction: there is no intent of this author to violate, transgress, profit from or infringe upon the Copyright and Intellectual Property (IP) rights of the parent Copyright or IP holders of characters, events or locations belonging to the same which may be contained within this work. To reiterate; this is a Derivative Work meant to be used under Fair Use as described in 17 U.S.C. § 101 and § 107.

U Methrah Thlayli

 

Chapter One

 

The sun was shining down on Cappadocia, the homeland of the Efrafan hares. One such hare was Thlayli, a burly animal so named for the unruly mop of fur on top of his head. He sat tall in the saddle while his Asian Ostrich, _Nildhristhol,_ fidgeted as the herd rested on the plains outside Goreme. He was _Hrair-lot_ , a peasant-born ostrich farmer serving under the _Marli-fa_ Natal Banu Vreka, who was the local Efrafan Lord. Despite his station, she had chosen him to lead the drove of 100 head of her herd to the great market city of Ankyra. Her own _Owsla Hrair-lion,_  who were the warrior elite of the Efrafan people, were currently marching under _Owsla-fa_ Adama Zethin Rautha against the Ottoman incursions. None could be spared to protect the herd.

 

He chose his two brothers Maythennion and Cemil to ride with him, as well as his twin cousins: the ever jocular Baris and wide-eyed Syrienpreen, to manage the supply wagon and spare mounts on this, their first drove. While he and his brothers had participated in a drive before, he had never lead one, and certainly never this far. He hoped that this trip would mean his request to join Marli-fa Vreka’s _Hrayfa,_ her _Owsla_ Cavalry, was being considered. He would much rather that than spend the rest of his life as a _Hrair-lot_ Ostrich farmer, despite his family’s opinion on the matter. At the very least, he hoped the change in scenery would disrupt the strange dreams he’d been having of late: red and grey fur framing soft brown eyes looking out from tall grass, while strange animal noises pressed in around them.

 

Shaking his head, he focused on his task: he had a fortnight to make the 50 league journey, so he needed to get started. He tapped Nildhristhol with his _Nild-pezel,_ a herding axe crafted from an ostrich leg bone, eliciting a hiss and boom. This roused the herd, as well as his siblings, and they began the trek. By the end of the first day of travel west, following the southern bank of the Red River, they had reached their first camping site; a rise overlooking Elm Creek, which was halfway between the cities of Avanos and Gulsehir. Thlayli, Maythennion and Cemil moved the herd to the creek to feed in small units of ten, while Baris and Syrienpreen set up the _Ger_ and prepared the camp. Thlayli and Cemil were on the rise overlooking Mythennion and a tenth of the herd, their red linen sashes and off white linen shirts and pantaloons dulled with the dust of the days ride.

 

“I’m getting my pay in silver Dirham,” mused Cemil as he rested in his saddle with a far off look, “...then I’ll have a craftsmam in Efrafa make it into a belt for Hypahyt.”

 

“You’ll have to work up the nerve to ask her _Marli_ before you give her a gift like that, little brother.” Thlayli smiled as he glanced at the taller jack.

 

Cemil snorted. “Easy for you to say. Not everyone can be born _owsla_ brave. You’re getting paid as much as the rest of us combined. Let me guess: you’re going to get your pay in bronze Nummis, then have the whole sum woven together as a suit of armor!”

 

Thlayli barked out a short laugh. “Wouldn’t that be a sight! But no, I’m using my share so I can take the Pilgrimage to Iskanderun.”

 

Cemil turned fully towards his brother. “To Woundwart’s Battlefield on the Plain of Issus? You’re really serious about joining _Marli-fa_ Vreka’s Owsla, aren’t you.”

 

Thlayli’s response was cut off by a startled cry from their brother Maythennion down by the creek. _Kimthilekyt_ , Maythennion’s ostrich, came thundering out of the group with a strange black hare clinging to her back. Cemil immediately wheeled around in alarm and began guiding the rest of the herd back to camp, while screaming “ _Inle-roo!_ ” Thlayli didn’t care if they were spirits of the dead or not: his family and _Marli-fa_ Vreka were depending on the income from this drive while the _Owsla_ were away. He unlimbered his _nild-pezel_ and charged Nildhristhol towards the creek. As he passed Kimthilekyt he stabbed the stranger with the spike on the base of the haft, dumping the rider into the muddy creek bank.                                                                                                                                                 

 

Once into the herd, he saw two more black colored hares trying to wrangle the obstreperous birds. He rode up and had Nildhristhol kick one of the rustlers, who soon disappeared under the feet and claws of the herd. The third finally noticed his plight and began running south. Thlayli gave chase, and once he had caught up he struck the black jack with the hammer head of his _pezel_. The would-be robber was launched into the creek with an agonized squeak, where the late spring melt waters washed him away face down. Wheeling around, he saw two riders speeding away southwest, though their mounts were too scrawny to belong to Vreka’s herd.

 

He returned to the demi-herd and began calling for his brother. “ _Ennion-roo_ ! Are you in there?” The herd was still agitated, and the last thing he wanted was to spook the birds into trampling his kin. He saw another _pezel_ hook Kimthilekyt’s neck, and soon Mythennion’s dark brown ears could be seen peeking up. “Are you okay brother? Are you injured?”

 

“Only my pride, _rusati_ .” The stocky brown jack hobbled out of the herd, leaning on his ostrich and using his _nild-pezel_ as a walking stick. “The _Nalnayilfil_ jumped out of a tree and knocked me off Kimthilekyt’s back. The landing knocked the wind out of me.” When he arrived at the fallen rustler the jack was laying face down at the end of a trail of black stained grass. “They colored their fur black, to try and trick us into thinking they were evil spirits. Do you think they are _Il Bralrahai Kehaar_?”

 

Thlayli dismounted and turned the black colored hare over. “No, just _silfessil._ Death Worshipers haven’t been seen in many years, you know that. Besides, they would not have run from a fight.” He wiped his paw in the grass and stood up. “Still, best to thin their numbers before they become over confident and attack someone else.”

 

There was a weak rattling gasp from the hare at their feet. Mythennion shivered for a moment, then saw Thlayli ready to deliver a mercy blow. “No brother, I’ll do it; I’ll not have your soul overburdened with death. You are not _Owsla_ yet, and _Inle-Ra_ has not been sung your name: he could take you by mistake on his next moon.” Mythennion then swung his _pezel_ about and caved in the jack’s skull. He turned from the gruesome sight and looked at Thlayli. “Did we lose any birds?”

 

Thlayli looked back at the group of ostriches taking a quick count, then up the rise to the camp. Cemil’s ostrich _Nildzyzay_ gave out two quick booms. “Looks like the whole herd is good, if somewhat out of sorts. I saw two riders heading southwest at a gallop; maybe to Sulusaray, but even if they rode through the night they wouldn’t get there until dawn. We’d be in Gulsehir before they could catch up.” Once his brother was mounted again they began gathering the distressed birds while avoiding the trampled remains of the second rustler. “If they try anything, it’ll be tonight. But I doubt these vagabonds have anymore fight in them. Come on, let’s get the herd back to camp before _Keharr_ comes for his due.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Efrafans continue to drive their herd, but encounter an unexpected traveler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright Disclaimer
> 
> The following is a work of fanfiction: there is no intent of this author to violate, transgress, profit from or infringe upon the Copyright and Intellectual Property (IP) rights of the parent Copyright or IP holders of characters, events or locations belonging to the same which may be contained within this work. To reiterate; this is a Derivative Work meant to be used under Fair Use as described in 17 U.S.C. § 101 and § 107.

The hares and their herd arrived without incident at Akik Saray at the outskirts of Gulsehir the next day. Again, Syrienpreen and Baris made camp and managed both the herd and sullen Mythennion, who had been unable to remain in the saddle throughout the day, while Cemil and Thlayli rode on. Cemil went to the nearby Mosque to fetch a doctor to check Mythennion over. Syrienpreen was fine at caring for injured ostriches, but they all wanted a true doctor to check, just in case.

 

Thlayli went into the town proper to let the local _Owsla_ commander know about the rustlers. Most of the _Hrair-lion_ were away at war, so there was little chance of anything being done immediately, but word was sent by messenger pigeon to Avanos, Sulusaray and Efrafa so that travelers could be warned. _Silfessil_ , the outcast hares, were as likely to murder traveling Efrafans as soon as rob them, if only out of resentment.

 

By the time he returned to camp the twins had porridge and bitter apple tea ready. Baris looked up from the campfire. “It’s terrible, cousin.” Thlayli looked to the Ger in alarm, just as the doctor stepped out of the round tent with Mythennion in tow. “Not even the good doctor can cure Mythennion’s sour temperament.” The entire camp lit up with laughter as Mythennion kicked a clod of dirt at their cousin. Baris turned to the doctor and spoke in the low Efrafan tongue. “In all seriousness Doctor, how is he?”

 

The grey nosed otter sat by the fire and took a proffered cup of tea. “He is well, though his ribs are lightly bruised from the fall. I suspect he should be fully healed by the time you reach Golbasi, as long as you refrain from any undue exertions.” The last was said as the old doctor pointed at his charge.

 

The stocky jack threw his paws up in defense. “Don’t warn me; I’m not the one who used to shirk his chores to sneak off and watch the _Owsla_ train, or pretend to be in the _Hrayfa_ and _Frithrah_ knows what else!” He looked pointedly at Thlayli.

 

Thlayli scowled at his elder brother. “I wasn’t born to be an ostrich farmer! I’m, I need to be more, to do more!”

 

“More than what, _Brek-li_ ?” Cemil tapped Thlayli on the top of his head with the butt of his _pezel_. “Saving your brother’s life, or keeping us from losing a tenth of the herd on the first day? Maybe you were born to be more than an ostrich farmer, but for right now that is exactly what you are, and this is exactly where you are needed.”

 

Syrienpreen stared wide eyed into the fire. “I heard the Ottoman Sultan, Mehmed the Conqueror, has brought the Don Cossack Hoard with him, as well as _Nizari Ismaili_ from Assyria.”

 

Doctor Hekim spat into the fire. “The Seljuks should have put an end to that heresy; the Fida’im are a blasphemy upon Islam. If the Ottomans intend to ally with Damascus, then they will find no succor here.”

 

Baris retreated into the Ger for a moment, then emerged with his rebab. “Enough talk of war and destiny. We are together with guests, and that’s enough reason to celebrate as far as I am concerned.” With that, he began to play as his kin laughed and danced away their concerns.

 

...

 

When the sun rose the next morning so to did Thlayli and his kin. The entire town of Gulsehir turned out to watch the herd drive through. From there, they continued on westward for three more days. They had just passed the Red River ford at Kesikkopru when Thlayli called them to a halt. Something about the area felt off in a strangely familiar way. Before his brothers or cousins could ask him what was happening, he signalled the entire herd to dismount and ground. At a signal, every ostrich lay on the ground, while Baris and Syrienpreen covered the cart with the Ger.

 

Thlayli moved ahead on paw, keeping as low to the late spring grass as he could. As he came upon the Bezirgano Creek, he saw movement in the rushes. A moment later, he was muzzle to muzzle with a pair of soft brown eyes surrounded by red and grey fur: the very same eyes he had been dreaming about for the last season. He startled upright in shock, and then he heard three high pitched, almost lyrical voices approaching from the river. Three golden canid muzzles turned towards Thlayli and the animal next to him, who whimpered. They yelled at him in Arabic while waving off.

 

Thlayli shifted his _nild-pezel_ into a wide two handed grip and held himself erect. “I am Thlayli, second son of _Marli_ Kiraz, _Hrair-lot_ to _Marli-fa_ Vreka. You are not of these lands. Leave, now!” He ended his statement with a stamp of his pedal paw.

 

The three seemed taken aback, as they consulted with one another for a moment before the largest of them, a full two heads taller than Thlayli, strode forward while drawing his bone handled _Yataghan_ sword. Thlayli guessed by his gate that he expected to power through whatever defense the hare would try, but was also not moving like he expected to be attacked: Thlayli had one chance, and one chance only to take this beast down.

He darted forward and used his _pezel_ ’s haft to push the attackers sword to the side while trying to strike his jaw with the blade. The wolf like animal may have been surprised, but was not inexperienced and kept his muzzle clear of the blade. Thlayli hauled back sharply with his _pezel_ and caught the mammals sword wrist in the beard of the axe blade. This caused the beast to lurch forward off balance. Sensing an opportunity, the canid tried to bite his opponent, but Thlayli had been wrestling his brothers since he was five years old and was wise to that trick. As the jaws opened wide, the hare lashed out with the top of the axe head to the other’s lower jaw. There was a very satisfying crunch and yelp as his opponent crumpled senseless to the ground.

 

He looked up in satisfaction at his victory, only to find one of the other canids had rushed forward with his sword drawn and ready to strike. Thlayli was as unprepared to defend himself as his attacker was for the sling stone that caught him in the temple. The animal crashed at Thlayli’s paws as Cemil rode forward, a second sling stone at the ready. The last mammal, in clear determination to accomplish whatever goal had brought it out here, lunged at the recumbent animal in the reeds. Thlayli also lunged and, with a yell, tackled the animal into the creek. It took a few moments but Thlayli’s years of meadow wrestling in preparation to join the _Owsla_ allowed him to quickly come to grips, and he threw the beast headfirst back into the creek. The animal was stunned and in short order Thlayli had drowned him. As he ascended the bank, he saw his first opponent trying to stand up only to receive a sling stone to the back. When he collapsed to his knees, Thlayli struck him in the skull with his _pezel_ , then all was still.

 

A rustling in the reeds drew Thlayli’s attention back to what had started this whole matter. He noticed Cemil readying another stone. “Hold brother, I need to know what this was about.” When he moved the rushes aside, he saw a red and grey furred canid, no larger than an Efrafan. It, she, was gaunt with hunger and breathing very fast, as she appeared to have a small festering wound in her back.

 

“What is it Brek-li?” Cemil asked from his saddle.

 

“A _homba_ ; a vixen I think. She’s wounded.” Thlayli easily hoisted the shivering fox out of the rushes on the creek bank. “Call up Baris and the others; we’ll make camp here tonight.”

 

His brother looked concerned at the sight of the _homba_ , remembering all the cautionary tales their mother and father had taught them. “Here? We have a league yet to travel today.”

 

“Yes here. She needs help and we are here to give it, and I don’t want to move her for a time.” He nodded to the fallen canids. “We also have to attend to them.”

  
Cemil hesitated for a moment, then nodded and rode back to the herd. It was one thing to leave Efrafan traitors and thieves to _Keharr_ and the carrion birds, but warriors and the innocent deserved the best rites and aid they could provide, even if they were the _elil_ of old.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Efrafans aquaint themselves of their new traveing companion, and meet moroe travelers with news from abroad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright Disclaimer
> 
> The following is a work of fanfiction: there is no intent of this author to violate, transgress, profit from or infringe upon the Copyright and Intellectual Property (IP) rights of the parent Copyright or IP holders of characters, events or locations belonging to the same which may be contained within this work. To reiterate; this is a Derivative Work meant to be used under Fair Use as described in 17 U.S.C. § 101 and § 107.

Chapter 3

 

Ileana felt comfortable. Her drowsy mind tried to remember the last time she had felt comfortable. Certainly not in the last year; between dodging the Horse Lords of the Don Cossack Hoard out of the Kingdom of Georgia, military patrols of the Ottoman Sultan Mehmed, and now Fida’im out of Assyria... she gasped in alarm and tried to sit upright, only to gasp again in pain and sink back into the pile of woolen and feather blankets she was wrapped in.

 

 _“Stethi nahlmul, hombo-fa. Draoi ohrezorn.”_ A gentle voice and a gentler paw pressed her deeper into the comforting warmth of the blankets. As she looked around she saw a group of hares, though the two who stood out were the light colored jack who was tending to her with a wide eyed wonder and a large tan jack with hard eyes who came over to look down at her as if trying to piece together a puzzle. She vaguely remembered this jack as the one who found her on the stream bank; he had a shock of brown fur on top of his head that resembled nothing so much as a small briar patch. More than that, though, he had defended her. It was years since anyone defended her

 

She hadn’t realized she had dozed off until she was startled awake by what sounded like an argument. _“Leaobraltha hombothum nangeer hreath. O nahlzayna thanlana um!”_ The jack who had saved her earlier gestured between himself and her while he looked challengingly at the stockiest of the hares. There was something slightly familiar about the way they spoke, but she couldn’t place it.

 

 _“Rusatil, imarlao koion zaynon nildai Ankyra. Zornmon voir hyoail!”_ The stocky hare scowled at her savior and her while gesturing around. What ever was outside that Stocky was gesturing to while pointing at Briar-top was irrelevant, as she recognized one word: Ankyra. If she could make it to Ankyra, she could get passage to Constantinople with one of the Byzantine contacts and then back to Targoviste to warn her Prince!

 

Though they all looked like peasants and were clearly not worldly enough to recognize a Romany fox, she hoped at least one of them spoke a little Turkic. She grasped at the arm of her nurse. “ _Ankyra, I must go to Ankyra!”_

 

A hare identical to her nurse with the same inquisitive mein came over and gently pulled her paw from his brother’s arm. _“You go Ankyra, we go Ankyra. M’zyzi yen.”_ Her heartbeat began to slow as she was once again helped back into the nest of blankets. Whether it was the truth or just something said to keep her calm, she now had hope of completing her mission; for the first time in a year, she dared to imagine she might see home again. She was soon fast asleep.

 

Syrienpreen hustled everyone out of the Ger. “Out. Until it’s time to sleep, I want you all out; especially if you intend to keep arguing.”

 

Celim grabbed his two brothers before they could head back into the tent to start arguing with their cousin. “We all agreed to put _Etholsi_ in charge of her care. Besides, you heard Baris; she’s going to Ankyra, same as us.” He nervously cast a questioning glance towards their musical cousin who was sifting through the various items they had found on the three canids.

 

“More than we need to, it sounded like.” Baris looked at his cousins. “Oh stop worrying: she’s not ‘The Vulp’ from ‘Theoden-rah’. Etholsi could beat her in a wrestling match right now.”

 

Mythennion huffed. “We don’t have the time or supplies for this, and what of when she’s stronger? The old stories are there for a reason.” He cast a worried glance into the tent. “Besides, she stinks.”

 

Thlayli squared in front of Mythennion. “So do you, brother, but you don’t hear the rest of us complaining do you?”

 

Baris barked a laugh. “Not over the sound of your snoring Brek-li. Here,” once Thlayli turned to him, Baris hefted one of their swords and tossed it over. “What do you make of these?”

 

Thlayli drew the blade from its scabbard. “Well, this looks like some kind of calligram of a lion. I can’t read the script, but I do know niello work and Damascus Steel when I see it.” Looking at the arabesque engraved bone grip, he grimaced slightly. “I pity whatever beast paid the price to play the part of this hilt.” He resheathed the blade and thought for a moment, then secured it to his belt. “Those beasts weren’t speaking Turkic or Lapin; maybe your brother was right, and we survived an encounter with a trio of Fida’im.” He noted the looks his kin were giving him. “What? I slew two of them fairly; it’s my right.”

 

Mythennion huffed slightly. “Do you even know how to use that?” He nodded to the sword now on his brother’s hip.

 

“Certainly.” Thlayli dramatically drew the blade. “I brandish it and make a lot of noise, and while my enemy is distracted I have Nildhristhol kick them.” The herdsmem chuckled at that, and settled in for the night.

 

The drove pushed as hard as they could over the next four days to try and make up time. In that time, Ileana began to mend and fill out. Her coat took on it’s more natural luster, and her movements became more lithe. Maythennion and Cemil seemed to keep some distance from her, while the twins treated her as a new and wondrous thing. Only Thlayli gave her pause. He showed neither fear nor awe; rather, he watched her with an intensity she’d only ever seen from her own mother and father when a todd first came courting at their caravan. He was quick to defend her though, even from his own kin, and she didn’t know how to feel about that.

 

There was an exchange of some language, so that they might all speak to one another without constantly tasking Baris to translate. As they rode, Ileana learned all she could about her benefactors, from their names, to the reason their language sounded so familiar; it was the ancient form of that spoken by the Lapinian trade princes of the Apennine and Aragant city-states. She had never studied the language, but she had encountered several of the Europan Hares. The five Efrafans in turn learned some about their vulpine charge; her name, that she was Wallachian, and that in her travels she had seen something that caused a trio of Iraqi Jackals to pursue her.

 

By the third day, the two elder brothers seemed to have decided she was not a threat and started calling her ‘Marli’ or ‘Mar’leana’. Once that had happened she noted that, while they might bicker and argue among themselves as any siblings will, when she spoke they listened and when she suggested they considered. It was a most welcome change from how her Romany kin were treated throughout Europa. She thought she might suggest moving to the lands of these ‘Efrafans’ once she returned home. How else was she to repay, ‘Brek-li’? She could not, unless she were here to do it.

 

The village of Sanikisla was just in view as the sun was setting on the eighth day of the drive. As close as the village was to Kochisar, and the Purrsian Lion family that ruled there, they hoped for some supplies for Ileana. None of the ostrich hens were laying during the drive and whatever skills were possessed between them all, fishing was not one of them. While Ileana had subsisted during her flight on whatever she could scrounge, the lack of some kind of meat was beginning to take its toll on her.

 

As they closed in they saw a line of ostrich drawn carts. Ileana turned her nose into the air as she thought she smelled blood. “Who they?” she asked Syrienpreen.

 

“I don’t know Mar’leana; this is my first drive. Brek-li!” She had also learned the various nicknames the hares had for one another, such as ‘Bramble-head’ for her champion, and ‘Little-nut’ for the eldest of the three brothers. When Thlayli looked at his cousin, whom he insisted on calling ‘One-of-two’, her nurse nodded towards the awaiting caravan. “Do we know who they are?”

 

“Likely they’re salt merchants from Tuz Golu. Maybe we’ll luck out and they’re headed to Ankyra as well; if even one of those carts is full of salt they’ll be traveling with soldiers, and we won’t have to stand watch every night.” Thlayli sidled up to the cart and handed off his newly acquired sword. Everyone had agreed that openly wearing the blade of a _Fida’i_ would not be wise, but he had grown fond of the sword and flailed with it every chance he could; no one, not even Thlayli, was willing to describe his clumsy wielding as practice.

 

As they closed in they were greeted by a group of dour spear wielding mouflons in armor, and two nearly ecstatic lionesses. The great cats rushed up and began a frantic tale while gesturing to their carts, all in Turkic. Baris was looking franticly towards his kin, when Ileana began conversing with the elder lioness.

 

Once finished she turned to Mythennion. “She say lose one bird today to bad ground, now cart can not go. They ask for you bird.” She puzzled at his alarmed look for a moment, then noted how he held a protective paw to his mount. “No, no no: you bird; _u nild-hrair_!” She gestured to the herd in general, causing all the hares to relax. The idea of parting with their chosen mounts, whom she had learned each had raised them selves, was not an option.

 

Mythennion looked to the salt caravan, and then to his kin. “We could spare one, but not as a gift.”

 

She nodded and turned back to the salt merchants. By the time the entire herd was laid down for the night and the ger was set up, Ileana had negotiated the sale of one of the ostriches for a sum of 15 pounds of salt. The herders and Ileana were invited to dine that evening with the lionesses. The Efrafans brought out a supply of _eriste_ noodles and _pide_ bread, while the merchants slaughtered and butchered their injured ostrich.

 

Though no longer famished, Ileana was quite distracted during dinner by the marrow broth and ostrich fat stew the merchants had made for everyone with all their combined supplies. She was unable to help in conversation until she was sated, though the Efrafans were quite understanding of her plight. Once everyone was finished, they shared in what news they had, with Ileana’s help.

 

Sultan, the elder of the two lionesses, relaxed near the fire. “I am truly sorry, but we must go to Kirikkale first, before traveling to Ankyra. My mother, the first wife Ece karisi Arslan, has sent us to recruit more soldiers. Yeter’s five year old son, my brother Alp bin Arslan, is the oldest male lion left in Kochisar; and besides, there are far more villages between here and Kirikkale to trade with than on the direct road to Ankyra.”

 

Yeter seemed pensive. “It is so strange, walking the halls of Kochisar. There are only my sister-wives and our daughters and smallest sons left. The _Keci Askerleri_ ,” she nodded to the mouflons guarding the camp, “...are the only males left in a league of the castle; all have answered my husband’s call to arms against the Ottomans.” Sultan rested a paw on Yeter’s shoulder. The younger lioness relaxed slightly, then looked up. “We are hardly without defenses, but our lands are still vulnerable. It does us no good to hoard our wealth while the countryside is beset by brigands or worse.”

 

Thlayli nodded while sopping up the last of his stew with a piece of pide bread. “We ran into a small band of rustlers not one day out of Avanos.” His brothers shivered slightly at the memory. “Normally, _Hrayfa_ ride from Efrafa, Gulsehir, Kaymakli, Karain, Goreme and Avanos. Now, most of the _Owsla_ are away under _Owsla-fa_ Rautha. The countryside is more treacherous than I can remember.” He involuntarily glanced at Ileana.

 

Sultan snorted derisively. “Yes, your friend has mentioned your encounter with ‘ _Fida’im_ ’. I suppose any wayward bandit would seem the agents of _Shaitan_ to a lone vixen traveling the highlands.” There was a murmur of chuckling from the _Keci Askerleri_ at Ileana’s expense.

 

Thlayli sat stone still for a moment, before he glanced to his cousin. _“Baris, m’hayi ro’thra.”_

 

Baris headed into the ger for a moment, then returned with one of the daggers they had taken off of Ileana’s attackers. He lazily lobbed the sheathed weapon to the lionesses. Yeter took up the blade and unsheathed it, then shrieked in alarm and dropped the implement upon looking at it in the fire light. When Sultan knelt to look, she hissed and spat on the blade. “ _Ismail Aslani_ ! This is the symbol of the _Nizari Isma’ili_ ; where did you get this?!” Yeter shivered as her step-daughter hugged her.

 

Baris sauntered over and collected the blade and sheath. “Apparently, from three wayward bandits; all those my cousins slew had blades with such markings. That calligram must be all the rage in Urfa, or Damascus, or wherever bandits come from nowadays.”

 

Yeter looked up. “Wait, three? Not seven?”

 

Thlayli and Cemil looked to Ileana, who only shrugged in confusion. Thlayli turned to their hosts. “I barely survived three with my brother’s aid. We’d not be here to have this conversation if there had been seven of them.”

 

Sultan growled. “Oh, there were seven if there was just one. The other four must be on the way to their masters to tell them what has befallen the other three; that, or waiting for the best moment to strike.” She stood, lifting her step-mother with her. “May I have that dagger? I must send a messenger to Kochisar, and my mother would not believe what I have to say without proof.” When Baris handed her the dagger, she began towards her tent while calling for her writing desk. “Get what rest you can; we must be away from this place by dawn’s first light.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Efrafans and their guest finally make it to Ankyra, but not without incedent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright Disclaimer
> 
> The following is a work of fanfiction: there is no intent of this author to violate, transgress, profit from or infringe upon the Copyright and Intellectual Property (IP) rights of the parent Copyright or IP holders of characters, events or locations belonging to the same which may be contained within this work. To reiterate; this is a Derivative Work meant to be used under Fair Use as described in 17 U.S.C. § 101 and § 107.

Chapter 4

 

By dawn of the ninth day both camps had been struck. The salt caravan continued north along the Red River to Kirikkale, while the herd turned Northwest and headed straight for Ankyra. For safety, Syrienpreen and Baris began riding with the two brothers for additional eyes and ears, while Maythennion and Ileana drove the cart. After a hard day’s ride they camped on a low ridge. Maythennion and Syreinpreen paid extra care when they checked the cart that night as Thlayli and Baris readied camp, while Cemil stood watch over the herd. Ileana’s injury, though no longer a life threatening concern, limited the help she could give to cooking and passing messages.

 

While their porridge and tea were warming, she came over to Thlayli once the ger was set up. “Why so worried for cart?” She nodded to where Maythennion was checking the axles and wheels.

 

Thlayli pointed just north of where the sun was setting. “From here to the next valley is the _Hristhol Nayltil_ called Bala, the Land of _Nayltil_ .” She cocked her head to the side and tapped her foot, a sign the hares had all learned meant she was confused and unable to explain why. In this case, Thlayli had a good idea of why. “We Efrafans,” he gestured to his brothers and cousins, “...are _nayilfil._ They,” he gestured to the valley and beyond, “...are _nayltil_. They are like us to the eye, but smaller, weaker and more timid...”

 

“They are cursed by _Frith-rah_ , and a blight upon the land.” Maythennion groused as he settled next to his brother by the fire.

 

Syrienpreen settled next to her. “They came with the Reman Empire as servants to the Lapin Diplomats, from the lands beyond the Alps. They brought with them a flower they used in worship. Now they grow it for the Sunni and the Copts.”

 

Maythennion spat. “It is _nahralnyefath._ The only good that comes from it is it drives away bugs.”

 

She looked back and forth between the hares. “But why worried for cart?”

 

Thlayli spoke around a piece of pide. “The _nayltil_ do not live in villages like we do.”

 

He started slightly when Cemil flicked one of his ears. “Finish chewing first, then talk to _Marli_ , Brek-li.”

 

Everyone chuckled as Thlayli finished his mouthful. “Anyway, they burrow into the land and live in _hlien_ under their farms. The first we’re likely to know we are over one is when it collapses under us, or a _hlien_ empties out around us and panics the herd.”

 

Baris shook his head. “They are a sad, scared people; they have no songs, no dances, nothing that would attract attention to them. They are so afraid of being found they don’t even mark out their lands.”

 

Ileana nodded in comprehension. “We have these too. Call ‘Rabbits’. Many people make slaves for food.” All the hares nodded at that.

 

“The same was true for us, in the time before the Crusader God or the rise and fall of the Reman Empire.” Syrienpreen sipped his tea and leaned back. “Well, that’s why we are double checking everything: we will be riding fast to cross this land in two days, then three more to Ankyra. If it is as _pfeffa-rah_ Sultan said, and those four _Fida’im_ are still out there, then we can afford no more delays.”

 

...

 

The herd made good time the next two days, and it was interesting for Ileana to watch. One of the outriders would move ahead while one stayed slightly behind with their ears perked. The two other riders would guide the herd in whichever direction seemed best, while the supply wagon followed behind.

 

Maythennion leaned over at her curious expression. “Cemil is listening for the sound of the earth as Thlayli runs ahead; it makes a hollow sound if there are _nayltil hlien_ under foot. They can guide us to good ground without slowing down.”

 

They had to divert the herd three times as they moved through the _Hristhol Nayltil_ to avoid rabbit warrens. There was an exchange on the second day before noon when one particularly brave rabbit buck came out from their warren to curse at the Efrafans in the Lapinian tongue. Cemil and Syrienpreen responded back with something that caused the smaller animal to squawk in alarm and run back inside. Once the cart had passed, rabbits shot out from tunnels and ran the direction the herd had come from.

 

“Why do you bother Etholsi?” Maythennion asked the twin while they paused for refreshment. “They’re born to die, whether it’s their nature or those _Fida’im rowfil._ It is _Frith-ra’s_ will. _”_

 

The soft spoken hare didn’t bother to turn to his kin. “It is also _Frith-ra’s_ will that they should _be_ on his earth. It is certainly not our place to question _Frith-ra’s_ will.” Syrienpreen refused to even look at Maythennion throughout the rest of the day.

 

On the twelfth night of the drive they made camp in a valley one day’s ride northwest of Tolkoy. Everyone had turned in for the night except Cemil, who stood the first watch. Ileana had become accustomed to the hares tendency to sleep as one group. It reminded her of cold Carpathian nights curled up with her own siblings.

 

Her dreams that night were fraught with a strange heartbeat sound. She was startled awake by a sharp grinding noise and a tap on her muzzle. When she opened her eyes, she was staring into Thlayli’s. The sound of several dozing hares helped drown out the burly jack reaching for his _nild-pezel_ . As she glanced around, she noticed that while they all sounded asleep, each hare was now grasping their weapons. She too reached for one of the _Fida’i_ daggers. There was a hiss and boom from one of the ostriches, and suddenly the entire herd was up and stampeding. With the ruckus, there was also the sound of jackals yelping in surprise.

 

Thlayli ran for the entrance of the ger when the door was flung open by an enormous black clad sword wielding jackal. Thlayli rushed forward and kicked the beast in the hip. As the jackal doubled over, the hare struck down with his _pezel_ . Before Thlayli could free his weapon, a second jackal struck. Thlayli managed to dodge the blow, but the haft of his _nild-pezel_ was shattered. Looking around, Thlayli saw the sword he had claimed laying nearby. He lunged for the blade, and the jackal followed him in. Before either could come to blows, Ileana surged forward with a shriek and stabbed the attacker with her dagger. As the startled jackal looked down, he was set upon by Syrienpreen and Baris with their _nild-pezels_ , while Maythennion pulled Ileana away.

 

Thlayli saw his kin had the jackal well in paw, so he turned back to the entrance and headed out. He looked around and saw Nildhristhol faithfully near the ger, rather than with the rest of the distressed herd. He also saw another jackal coming towards him with caution. Thlayli raised his new sword over his head and began waving it over his head while yelling and clicking his teeth. The jackal sneered and prepared to lunge forward, when Thlayli whistled sharply. The jackal barely had time to glance when Nildhristhol rushed in and kicked him in the side.

 

As the jackal flew into the darkness, Thlayli heard a voice repeating, “Allahu Akbar”. Thlayli saw the last Jackal just as he put a blue flower in his maw and bit down. The jackal shrieked in primal rage and lunged forward. Thlayli barely had time to get the sword in front of himself when the beast crashed into him with bared claws and slavering jaws.

 

...

 

Thlayli awoke to the sound of Ileana weeping while his brothers and cousins argued back and forth. “...and now my brother is dead protecting you, and for what?! We should have left you in the creek where we found you!” Maythennion was almost hysterical with grief and anger.

 

Thlayli felt the jackals maw around his throat, though the tongue hung loose, and no breath came from him. The assembled mammals all gasped when he started to lever the dead assassin off of him. He found his stomach hurt immensely where the pommel of his sword was pressing, making it difficult to breath or move. “Some help, _rusatil_!”

 

They had him excavated in short order, with Syrienpreen and Ileana fussing over him. Thlayli was adamant about pulling the sword from the deceased jackal. Once he had cleaned the blade off he looked at his kin and Ileana. “I’d dearly like to know what all the new fuss is about.”

 

Cemil and Maythennion stood in front of Thlayli and Ileana. “That’s what we are trying to find out but SHE,” Maythennion pointed at the distraught vixen, “...won’t tell us!”

 

Ileana turned in frustration. “Not won’t, can’t!”

 

“What ‘can’t’? Why can’t you tell us why these jackals have chased you across Anatolia?” Maythennion leaned in threateningly.

 

Thlayli moved to stand between her and his irate brother, but she pushed him back down into Syrienpreen’s care, then stood and faced Maythennion. “Not, have, Words!”

 

Baris came over with a stick and some ash from the now extinguished fire. “If you can’t tell us, then show us.” When Maythennion threw his paws up and turned away, Baris stood and pointed accusingly. “We all want to know what’s happening here cousin, but clearly screaming at her in a language she only started learning this past moon isn’t working so let her try this.”

 

There was a scratching noise from the ground. Everyone turned to see Ileana had drawn a surprisingly accurate map of the Anatolia. Where the land swooped northeast, she began to draw a peculiar shape over and over again.

 

Syrienpreen cocked his head to the side. “Are those, _zaynethaflosil_?” Ileana stared helplessly at him. “They go on water; some merchants use them to carry goods between Avanos and Kirikkale on the Red River.”

 

Ileana leapt to her feet and all but wept in relief. “Yes! _Zaynethaflos_ , ships: _hrair zaynethaflos_!”

 

Cemil screwed his face up in confusion. “They’re chasing you because you saw them, what, making merchant _ships_?”

 

She shook her head. “Not for merchant; for Cossack.”

 

Thlayli sat up at that. “You said many ships for Cossacks; how many?”

 

“All.”

 

Maythennion had turned around by then. “What ‘all’? All the ships?”

 

She shook her head. “All Cossack. When finish, Don Cossack go all _Marea Neagra_ , all _Losnos Inle_ : go Constanta, go Varna, go Samsun, go Constantinople. Will not know until Cossack attack. That why I must go Constantinople! I must warn, I must go home and warn Prince before too late!” The hares could only stand dumbfounded at the implications of what they had just heard.

 

...

 

It took most of the night to get the herd back and settled. By then it was time for the drove to be on the move again. They rode in silence for the next two days; even Baris’ mood was grim until they finally entered the city of Ankyra. The toll at the gate was paid with silver they had taken off of the fallen _Fida’im_ , and they proceeded to the stockyards where they would be selling the herd.

 

Baris looked over when they heard Ileana whimper slightly. He saw where she was looking longingly. “Don’t you worry, we’ll hit the Reman Baths as soon as we sell this herd off.”

 

“It won’t do her any good.” Maythennion commented from his saddle, finally able to ride comfortably. His kin all gave him a sour look he ignored. “She’ll still smell like Thlayli, no matter how many baths she takes.” They all shared their first laugh in days.

 

When they arrived at the stockyards, Ileana volunteered to negotiate for them. They noted the riot of languages, as well as the hungry eyes of the merchants; remembering her skill with the lioness’, they agreed. It took the better part of the afternoon, but she managed to sell the entire herd to one merchant for 250 Byzantine gold Nomisma. They all divied up the profits , agreeing that Ileana had earned her own share. They headed out to stable their birds and cart, and then hit the markets for new clothes and anything else they could think of. When they finally returned to the caravanserai from the Reman baths, they felt as good as new, and settled in for the night.

 

Thlayli looked around. All he could see was grass and sky. A rumble in the distance that sounded like thunder and song ebbed and flowed like nothing he had ever heard before. He turned around to see Ileana peeking out of the grass; behind her was a walled city straddling the land between two great waters. She pointed behind him, and when he turned he saw a great shadow advancing with the thunderous song. A rabbit peeked out of the earth.

 

Thlayli jolted awake. His dream had never been this complex before. He stood up from where his kin were still sleeping and headed out into the main courtyard. Looking up, he saw the constellations Ephraim and the _Nyalif-roo._

 

“No sleep?” He startled slightly as he finally noticed Ileana sitting nearby.

 

He walked over and sat next to her. “No. How about you?” She shook her head and hugged her knees. He rested a paw on her back for a moment before turning back to the heavens. “ What do your people say about dreams?”

 

She looked at him for a moment, then looked up. “Spirits talk in dreams, because we are too loud to hear when awake. They tell us of things to come, things to know to look for. Occasionally they tell us to not eat so much before sleep.” She smirked at him, then looked to the stars. “I think maybe you ask, because you have dreams, like we have dreams.”

 

“Only this past spring.” He leaned back and stared up. “When do you leave?”

 

“Tomorrow, noon. Is merchant go to Constantinople. I meet friend there, take me home.”

 

Thlayli nodded. “I’m going with you.”

 

“No!” she turned in shock. “You stay, _rusatil, marli_ and _tarli_ wait you! Go home, you do more than I need.” She rested a paw on his shoulder and looked pleadingly.

 

He clasped her paw in his. “My people dream so rarely. When it happens, it means something. I do not think I am to follow you to your prince or your people, but the dream isn’t finished yet. I _have_ to see where it leads!” He stood up and helped her stand as well. “Come; you have shared the road West with us. Me and my kin can at least share our room for one more night.”

 

The next morning saw the hares joking with one another and with Ileana. They understood her reticence, but most were puzzled by Thlayli’s seeming malaise; most, but not all.

 

Ileana was hugging the twins goodbye when Maythennion stood beside Thlayli. “You’re leaving with her, aren’t you.” There was no heat to his statement, though it still startled all the other hares.

 

“What?!” Cemil shot to his feet in alarm. “You can’t go! You have to return to Goreme with us!”

 

“No, _rusatil_ : you have to go back. I have to keep moving westward.” Thlayli gathered his share of the salt and profits, as well as the remains of his _nild-pezel_ and his newly claimed sword. “I have to see the dream through to its finish, else what am I?” He looked over his kin.

 

The twins looked between each other in alarm, and Cemil started over. “You’re not _veheeri...”_

 

Suddenly, Maythennion spoke. “We’ll take the high road east to Kirikkale, then south along the river to home. With luck, we’ll be able to join up with the salt caravan on its return trip.” He looked over to Thlayli. “We will spread the word as far and as fast as we are able.”

 

Syrienpreen smiled shyly. “I suppose it will be a novel experience, sharing news from abroad rather than just listening to it.” His twin tousled his ears.

 

Cemil looked at his two brothers in defeat, then focused on Thlayli. “I will tell _marli_ that you are going west, but that you will return.” He poked his smaller brother in the chest. “Do _not_ make a liar out of me.”

 

Thlayli grasped his brothers by the shoulders and pulled them into an embrace. “Thank you. I was meant for this. I will earn a place with Ephraim and _U Hrair_ , and I will come home.” He released them and stepped back. Ileana stepped over to him as the rest of the hares arrayed in front of him. All at once, the five hares stamped their paws on the ground and yelled out, “ _M’saion Frithrah narn!”_ Thlayli turned without hesitation and headed to the stables, where Nildhristhol awaited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be taking a short hiatus during january to catch up on my writing and editing.  
> U Methrah Thlayli wll return on the first Friday in February.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As one journey ends, an new one begins. Thlayli begins his quest to understand his dream, and perhaps his place in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright Disclaimer
> 
> The following is a work of fanfiction: there is no intent of this author to violate, transgress, profit from or infringe upon the Copyright and Intellectual Property (IP) rights of the parent Copyright or IP holders of characters, events or locations belonging to the same which may be contained within this work. To reiterate; this is a Derivative Work meant to be used under Fair Use as described in 17 U.S.C. § 101 and § 107.

Thlayli followed Ileana from atop Nildhristhol through the markets of Ankyra, passing under the shadow of the fortress _Ankyra Hisari_. On every side were mohair goats hawking their wool while mammals of every type and size strolled through the marketplace. There were some askance looks to the hare and fox, but the blade at his side and the bulk of Nildhristhol helped to ensure they were unmolested as they made their way to Akkopru on the city’s northern outskirts.

 

They arrived at an encampment just outside the city walls next to the old Seljuk bridge across the Ankara River. Dozens of caravans were gathered on the bank of the river. A corral had been set up to house the many ostriches. Several carts were set up in a central area as makeshift store fronts in an impromptu bazaar. Mohair Goats of Ankyra’s _Keci Askerleri_ escorted an Angoran rabbit in the livry of the _Ankyra Hisari_ through the bazaar. Thlayli assumed this was a city tax collector by the sour looks being directed the hirsute mammal’s way.

 

Thlayli and Ileana looked up and down the bank trying to identify the right camp. “So how will we know your caravan in this riot?”

 

“They have banner with _două vulturi cu capul.”_ She noted his perplexed look. _“_ Um, _Nildelisi_? Is seal for Constantinople. They very important traders.”

 

The jack sighed and continued looking at the encampments. “Right, if I see a banner with _Keharr_ on it, that’s where we’re headed.” Thlayli puzled for a moment as to why a merchant would be flying the cities banner, and not that of their own house or guild when he was distracted by a slight comotion from down the bank. Thlayli saw a group of hares in bronze maile mammal handling a pole with a yellow banner on it; a shift in the wind caused the flag to unfurl showing a double headed eagle grasping a cross in one claw and an orb in the other. The voices of the hares were singing a working song in the Efrafan Low-Tongue. “These very important merchants from Constantinople wouldn’t happen to be Lapinian, would they?”

 

Ileana perked up when she saw the group. “Yes! Is them; they hares like you.”

 

Thlayli snorted. “You’re lucky I like you, or you’d be in the river for a comment like that.” Ileana started and looked up at him. He simply shook his head. “Old blood, old wrongs. Nothing to concern yourself about. Come along then,” he nudged his ostrich forward, “...let’s meet our hosts.” Thlayli stopped short as they approached the camp and sat up in his saddle. “ _M’saion silfhlien!_ ”

 

There was a stirring from one of the carts as a hare of some girth made his way over. “Who hails the camp?” For all his seeming opulence, the hare had the carriage of a mammal that had worked hard all his life.

 

A quick tap caused Nildhristhol to lay down, and Thlayli dismounted to face the portly jack. “I am Kiraz _roolitol_ called Thlayli, of Goreme in Efrafa.” There was some murmuring from the armed hares. “I am here with _hombofa_ Ileana. We are seeking passage to Constantinople.”

 

“Really now.” He quickly sized Thlayli up. “I am Felix Agustin Uzun; I am master of this caravan. You may call me Uzun-fa. Our Romany friend I am acquainted with, and have made arrangements for. You are a different matter. What is your business that takes you so far from the shadow of Uchisar?”

 

Thlayli did his best to hide his discomfort at the Lapino jack’s scrutiny; it felt eerily similar to his audience with _Marlifa_ Vreka. “My business is her safe passage to Constantinople, Uzun-fa. Once that is done I will be on my way.”

 

Felix harrumphed. “That’s all very well and good, but if you are with us then you are under the protection of my _Hellion_ , and if you are following us it is a distraction to them.” Thlayli puzzled at the unfamiliar word until Felix turned to gesture to the dozen armed and armored hares behind him. “Either you are a burden on them or a distraction to them. In both cases, it costs me. So...” Felix was brought up short as Thlayli lightly threw something to him.

 

Upon catching and inspecting it, he found himself holding a quarter pound bag of salt. Felix looked up suddenly with an ear to ear grin. “ _Frithaes!_ ” Thlayli was startled by the traditional welcome as Felix turned and headed back into his caravan. “We will depart as soon as the last of my _Hellots_ gets back with my merchandise... ah here they are! _M’saion Frith-rah Narn_!”

 

Thlayli and Ileana turned to see another group of hares trying to wrangle 20 head of the ostrich herd they had just driven to the city. He looked over to Ileana. “ _M’saion Frith-rah Narn_ indeed.”

 

...

 

If Thlayli had thought his progress from Goreme to Ankyra was ploding, the pace of the merchant caravan to Constantinople was downright agonizing. The multiple daily stops to corral an errant bird were almost painful to his experienced eye. Added to that was the continuous disdain and suspicion from the _Hrair-lion,_ or _Hellion_ as the Lapinians said it, directed at him and Ileana. He could understand it in regards to himself; even centuries later, the failed revolt of Lapinius the Lesser and his fellow exiles rankled the Efrafan people. To have his descendant Kothen, whom the Remans called Corylus Rex, return under the Reman Eagle banner and with the Legion of the Apennine Wolf General Janisarius at his back had cemented the opinion of Efrafans that the exiles called Lapinians were usurpers and conivers to the last. It was, rather, their treatment of Ileana that confused and upset him.

 

On the third day of travel one of the carts threw a wheel, and the commotion caused the flock to panic. Felix and his _Hellion_ and _hellot_ jacks futilely tried to calm the animals and save the supplies in the stricken cart. Thlayli finally had enough; he gave a quick whistle and tap on Nildhristhol who in turn gave out a peculiar hiss and boom. Within seconds, the entire herd had laid down wherever they were.

 

He rode over to the broken cart while the Lapinos looked on. “My apologies Uzun-fa, if I am overstepping my bounds, but seeing you flail around helplessly was becoming painful to watch.” He looked to the _hellot_ driver. “Toss a rope to me and I’ll help right this thing. You,” he pointed to a jack stacking bags which had fallen off the cart, “...grab the bird’s halter and keep her from bolting when the cart is righted.”

 

In short order, the cart was back on three wheels, with the axle of the fourth resting on a large wooden trunk; something which annoyed one of the _Hellions._ Thlayli then rode over to the grounded herd. “Would you like me to teach you how to handle Efrafan _Nildhraynosil_ Uzun-fa? They can be temperamental, but well worth the price.” The _Hellion_ seemed to bristle at the idea of an Efrafan _hellot_ teaching them anything.

 

Felix snorted. “My days of menial labor are well past. Hlao!” A short, chubby hare with a much put upon look ambled over. “Our Efrafan, friend, is going to teach you to manage this herd; take due notice and conduct yourself accordingly.” With that he strode over to his stranded cart while Thlayli taught the smaller jack how to manage an Efrafan ostrich herd.

 

...

 

As evening came, Thlayli finished up his work with Hlao. The slight jack was somewhat timid, but a quick learner; he had already picked up most of the basic command signals and had spent the afternoon walking the herd around. Thlayli was confident that by the time they reached Constantinople, while no Efrafan herdsmam, Hlao would be able to manage a small herd on short drives. The smaller mammal was also possessed of a rather dry wit that made him easy to get along with.

 

After checking with Ileana and getting something light to eat, Thlayli headed to a secluded portion of the camp to continue his efforts to master his newly acquired sword. He was midway through a half remembered sword drill he had seen once when a coughing laugh drew his attention to four of Felix’s _Hellions_.

 

The largest of them wasted no time once Thlayli had noticed them. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but seeing you flail that around helplessly is painful to watch.” Thlayli’s ears all but burned at the implicit rebuke for his earlier words. He noted the jack pull his sword and scabbard from his belt and secure them together. The Lapino then tossed Thlayli a length of twine. “Would you like me to teach you how to handle an _Owsla’s_ weapon? It will be hard, but well worth the lesson.”

 

Thlayli took a quick glance around and saw that most of the camp had taken notice, including Caravan Master Uzun-fa. He was confident there would be trickery from the Lapino _Owsla,_ but equally confident Felix wouldn’t allow the situation to get out of hand; no one would do business with him if it was known he allowed someone under his care to be harmed or murdered by his guards. This was also too good an opportunity; whatever the jack’s real intentions, Thlayli could at least learn a little more of the arts he had so long sought.

 

He secured his sword into its sheath and squared up. “How could I refuse such a _gracious_ offer, _ni-Owsla_.”

 

His opponent smiled, then was on Thlayli in a flash, his blade crashing down on a panicked guard. “A lesson: keep your blade up!” The next few minutes were a blur of barely blocked or dodged strikes, while the Lapinos looked on with humor. Every blow was followed with an admonishment prefaced with, “A lesson!”: “Keep your knees bent!” “Balance your weight between your paws!” “Move around the blade, not the other way around!” For all Thlayli was irked at his treatment, he did find that the advice was sound.

 

On the one occasion he tried to go on the offense, he used the blade more like a _pezel_ than a sword. His opponent, whom the crowd called Hleengar, was almost caught on the chin. He danced back and scowled at Thlayli. “That’s a sword in your paws, not a hammer; stop trying to bludgeon me with it.”

 

Thlayli returned to a sword grip, and Hleengar was on top of him again. “That’s your blade, not my neck; stop choking it!” When Thlayli relaxed his grip slightly, Hleengar swiftly disarmed him to the laughter and applause of the camp. The Lapino graciously stepped back and flourished for the crowd. “A lesson: Efrafans are not unbeatable monsters to scare Leveretts with.”

 

Thlayli grit his jaw then walked over, picked up his sword and turned to face Hleengar again. His mind raced over the previous battles, tonight and on the road. All his real victories had come when he was, novel in his approach to battle. Even with Hleengar, his one near hit was when he had stopped trying to fight by his opponents rules. “Is there time for one more lesson?”

 

The Lapino jack turned in surprise, and perhaps even some slight respect, then nodded with a smirk. “I think we have time for one more lesson.”

 

As soon as Hleengar’s sword came up, Thlayli barked, “Catch!” and tossed his sword to him. The jack snatched the blade out of the air in surprise and confusion, only to receive a sudden stamp kick to the gut. The Lapino dropped both swords and flew back into the crowd. Thlayli swiftly rushed to scoop up the fallen blades, then crossed them over the prostrate Hleengar’s neck. “A lesson: sometimes your opponent forgets they are in a fight. Remind them.”

 

There was dead silence in the camp until Felix began clapping and chuckling. “It would seem you are full of surprises, Thlayli of Goreme. I think we my have found a way to repay you for your lessons to Hlao.”

 

Hleengar growled as he stood once Thlayli stepped back. “A cheap Montebanc trick!”

 

“One you fell for, Captain.” Felix looked pointedly at the jack. “Either you have grossly oversold your skills to me, or this young Efrafan is more skilled than you initially gave him credit for. Which is it?”

 

Hleengar’s initial impulse was to decry the upstart _hellot,_ even if he had held his own for minutes where seasoned _Hellions_ had lasted mere seconds against him. Yes, it was a cheap trick that was used to best him... the Lapino hare was brought up short by his own train of thought. He knew dozens of self styled _Owsla_ who never moved past strict adherence to rigid form, and who had fallen to ‘inferior’ foes. When the Lapino turned to Thlayli, the Efrafan held out his sword, pommel first. Hleengar’s mien was of grudging respect as he retrieved his blade. “He does have, potential.”

 

“Excellent! He will teach Hlao, and you will teach him. I foresee this will be a most profitable trip for everyone.”

 

As Felix turned back into the camp, Ileana stepped in and swatted the back of Thlayli’s head. “What you think, pick fight with captain of guard?!”

 

Thayli rubbed the back of his head. “I didn’t pick a fight with him, I accepted his offer for lessons.”

 

“Speaking of which,” both turned to face Hleengar, “...the guard drill twice a day: before we strike camp in the morning, and after evening meals. You _will_ be there, or there will be no end of ‘lessons’ I will teach you.”

 

...

 

Once everyone started learning from everyone else, the drive to Constantinople was a blur of activity. Thlayli rose with the _Hellions_ to learn their way of fighting. Once the rest of the camp was roused and fed, the actual drive began during which he taught Hloa the art of managing an Ostrich herd. When they arrived at the spot where they would rest that night, it was back to the _Hellions._ He found that these Lapinian _Owsla_ were more than formidable in their own right, once everyone got past the urge to challenge him. Thlayli was heartened that he was better able to hold his own against most of the company. He was slightly disappointed that his only hit to date was the stamp kick that first night against Hleengar; a trick and mistake which none of the others had since made.

 

Another evening of practice had passed with Thlayli almost, but not quite, hitting his sparring partner Mora Correro. “Relax cousin, you are learning.” The dark brown jack insisted on calling everyone but Felix and Hleengar ‘cousin’. “You almost got me that time.” There was a round of chuckles from the Hellions.

 

Thlayli rolled his shoulders and neck. “Almost, almost. If I had my _Nild-pezel_ , there’d be no almost about it.”

 

There were a number of raised ears at that comment, including Hleengar. “What, pray tell, is a niddle-pizzle?”

 

Thlayli shrugged off the mangled word. Going to his bedroll, he retrieved a linen wrapped mass and set it down in front of the _Hellions_ . “This is, or was, a _Nild-pezel._ ”

 

The surrounding hares were somewhat impressed, with Mora whistling. “Is that head solid?”

 

Thlayli hefted the upper half of his broken weapon. “Yes it is. Once the bone is fire hardened, you drill a hole through here, and fit the tang through and peen it over.”

 

Mora took the tool in his paws and looked at the jagged break. “What happened to it?”

 

Thlayli snorted. “The same thing that always seems to happen to me; I wasn’t ready for the second animal.” There were some chuckles, but also a number of understanding looks from the more seasoned _Hellions_.

 

Thlayli saw movement from the corner of his eye. When he turned, Hleengar tossed something to him. “Show us.” The Efrafan jack looked at his paws and saw a stick of roughly the shape and size of a _Nild-pezel._ When he glanced around, he saw anticipation in the eyes of the company; an anticipation he knew well, as he felt it that first night against Hleengar. They wanted to learn what he knew. Thlayli grinned.

 

He stepped into the ring of hares and squared up against Mora. The Lapinian came in fast with an overhead strike, and just like that first encounter at the creek weeks ago, Thlayli blocked while swinging at his opponents head. This time however, his opponent wasn’t two heads taller than him, so he managed to get the crook of his stick behind Mora’s neck, and yanked. There was a hush as Mora lay sprawled at Thlayli’s feet. He offered a paw to his sparring partner, and once Mora was up he squared off again. They sparred for several minutes, with Thlayli giving as well as he got.

 

By the end, both Thlayli and Mora were winded, but grinning. “Is that a common Efrafan weapon?” Mora nodded to the broken _Pezel_.

 

Thlayli walked over and began re-wrapping the broken tool. “Well, it is common, but it’s not meant as a weapon per say. We use it when herding to clear brush, hammer things, prod animals, and yes, to defend ourselves and our herds, but it’s not meant to be used in war. It’s still just bone, so eventually it will break.”

 

Hloa had wandered over to look at the specimen. “So why not use something else? You have to have trees somewhere.” The other hares nodded.

 

“Because we’re _Nildhraynos_ herders; we never lack for these bones in a given year. Also I’m _Hrair-lot_ , not _Owsla_ . I guarantee our _Hrair-lion_ carry much more effective and practical weapons, and are experts with those.”

 

...

 

The caravan had stopped at a _caravanserai_ called ‘The Red Bathhouse’ just south of the fork between the Berc and Sey rivers. The entertainment that night came when the Helots decided to sing the ‘Ballad of Theodonus Rex’. Hlao gave a running translation for Thlayli as the performance was in _Lapin_ , not either _Efrafan_ or the Lapinian _Naylte_ . It didn’t take him long to realise this was the Lapinian version of _U Methrah Theoden-rah,_ a story he knew well himself. It took even less time to realise there were many differences, some of which highlighted the distrust the Lapinians showed to Ileana.

 

Thlayli turned to the small jack once the performance was done. “But why is she the villain?” Hlao seemed perplexed by Thlayli’s question. “In the ancient _Methain_ , it was Theoden who sought out _The Vulpe_ to devour his wife Narnahl _,_ not the vixen finding them on the road and killing her. It’s supposed to be a cautionary tale about the perils of greed with the _Vulpe_ as an instrument of _Frith-rah’s_ wrath, not a condemnation of _hombil_ as deceivers.” He rested a comforting paw on Ileana’s shoulder.

 

Most of the Lapinians were heading to other duties when Felix settled down next to them with a thump. “Oof. I would imagine it has more to do with the Remans than with us. The _Hombil-rah_ of Gaul, Vulpingeterix, caused the old Republic no end of troubles. It wasn’t until after the Imperial Unification of Augustus and the rise of Caesar Marcus Aurochius that Gaul and Germania were brought into the empire. To this day, there is no love in Reman Europa for _hombil_ , except as folk heroes.” The elder jack noted the disbelieving look on Thlayli’s muzzle. “It’s not so different than the distrust between Efrafans and Lapinians.”

 

Ileana patted his thigh as she stood up to help with the meal. “Is fine, _Brek-li_ ,” he snorted at the familiar name, “... many say such and not know me; you say not and protect me. You matter, not they.” He watched as she headed into the common kitchen, wondering at the life she had led that a _hrair-lot_ ostrich herder could have that much of an impact on her.

 

“You care about her, don’t you.” Thlayli was startled back to the present by Felix’s statement.

 

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” He was slightly confused by the jacks demeanor. “She’s been stuck in my head for a season. Now that I’m here with her, I intend to see this through to the end.”

 

Felix shook his head. “Heh. Young Turks. Well don’t get too attached; she’s bound for Wallachia when we get to Constantinople.”

 

By now Thlayli was thoroughly confused. Felix knew quite a bit more about Ileana than the younger hare had heard discussed. “I feel like we are having two different conversations, Uzun-fa. Please speak plainly.”

 

Felix gave a knowing look. “Ileana is quite handsome for a vixen.”

 

Thlayli looked back to the kitchens. “I suppose. She’s the first _homba_ I’ve ever really met in more than passing.”

 

“And yet, ‘she’s been stuck in your head’ in the season you’ve known her. Don’t play coy with me _Brek-li._ ”

 

Thlayli jerked his head around again. “What do you mean? I’ve known her less than a month?”

 

Felix’s mein slowly changed from one of a teasing older relative to one of concern and confusion, and finally to alarm. “ _A methyen, m’brahla methroo! M’haynta?”_ (Speak now, that I may know the truth of your words! When and how did you first see her?)

 

Thlayli hesitated in concern at the Lapinian’s sudden use of Efrafan. “ _M’bralantha_ _Ethileoa Nangeer.”_ (I dreamt of her on the first night of spring.)

 

Felix gave a breathy sigh. “ _Vate!”_

 

It took a moment for Thlayli to recognize the word. Once he did, he shot to his pedal paws. “I’m not _veheer_!” He began pacing in agitation. “I had a dream and...”

 

Felix was up with his own paws on Thlayli’s shoulders. “A dream you have followed to its source and pursued across the land. There have been two such in my family, so we know of these things.” He firmly turned the younger jack to face him. “Before we reach Constantinople, we will pass through the birthplace and namesake of one of them. Hraydayne too had dreams, and they drove him to the ends of the empire. His wall still stands on the border of Alba and Caledonia. The world will not soon forget the name Hadrian, as I think it will not soon forget yours!”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thayli arives at Constantinople and begins to understand how far reaching the stakes of the coming conflict truly are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright Disclaimer
> 
> The following is a work of fanfiction: there is no intent of this author to violate, transgress, profit from or infringe upon the Copyright and Intellectual Property (IP) rights of the parent Copyright or IP holders of characters, events or locations belonging to the same which may be contained within this work. To reiterate; this is a Derivative Work meant to be used under Fair Use as described in 17 U.S.C. § 101 and § 107.

Chapter 6

 

It was past the Summer Solstice when they finally descended from the Anatolian Plateau and onto the Black Sea coastal plains. They turned west and followed the river valley to the city of Hadrianopolis where Felix sent a messenger pigeon ahead to Constantinople. The change in climate was a welcome reprieve for the Lapinians and Ileana. Thlayli found the humidity to be nearly exhausting. Everyone passed the time learning each others languages.

 

“Relax Thlayli.” Hlao sidled up to the Efrafan jack as they departed the city, which was named for one of Felix’s ancestors. “We’re just ten days from Constantinople. You can almost smell the sea. It's been too long." Thlayli wondered at how the whole of Felix's company wereacting as if the had been away a great time. "Have you ever seen the sea? Vast it is, the biggest water you’ll see in your life. Humbling really.”

 

Thlayli huffed. “Tuz Golu and the Red River were the biggest waters I’d seen until this trip.”

 

“Oh then you’re in for a treat!” The little Jack all but bounced in his saddle. “We’re out of the rainy season, but the storms! When Marmara and the Black Sea meet, ohohoh, it’s as if God himself was at war with the firmament!” Thlayli’s ears began to flag at the prospect of the storms which Hlao alluded to. He was mostly certain the smaller mammal was catching up on the teasing Thlayli had given him on the trip.   

 

Though storms did threaten, and Thlayli was wakened more than once by the rumble of distant thunder blending with his familiar dream, Frith-rah did not rain down upon them. After riding more than a month and a half since leaving his home in Goreme, Thlayli arrived at Skoutarion, on the Bosphorus.

 

Thlayli looked skeptically at the waterway in front of the troop. “Efrafan _Nildhraynosil_ are many things Hlao, but good swimmers is not one of them.”

 

The small jack was non-pulsed at that. “Oh heavens no, we’re not swimming over. There is a khelandion waiting to take us across to Constantinople.” Hloa shook his head when Thlayli glanced at Ileana. “No, Uzun-fa has commissioned a cog to take her home to Constanta.”

 

Thlayli paused at that. “Why would Uzun-fa commission the passage for her?” Before the flustered jack could answer, the vixen in question called to Thlayli.

He dismounted and went over to her. When he stood next to her, she took one of his paws. “Master Felix says I leave on the next tide, but you will cross once the herd is on your ship.”

 

“Yes, I’d heard.” He glanced at the gathered Lapino’s, then turned to Ileana and gathered her into a hug. “Be safe and rejoin your family. I will sing your name to my people.”

 

She squeezed him back with her muzzle over his shoulder. “You take care as well; there are more dangers here than Hashishim and Cossacks.”

 

“ _Doamna Adame!_ ” They both stepped back to see a medium sized wolf approaching from a nearby berthed ship. It very much reminded him of an _owsla_ : low, sleek, and with two black iron tubes on swiveling points in the middle of the ship, quite threatening. The wolf was striking in his own way: while grey in coat, the wolf wore a Royal Blue tabard with the image of a black eagle holding a golden cross in its beak. The tabard was held closed by a belt of brass plates, each with the same eagle upon it.

 

Ileana turned back to Thlayli. “I must leave now. I will also remember you to my prince and to my people.” She then rushed to the ship, as Thlayli turned to help wrangle the ostriches.

 

...

 

By the time the Lapinians and Thlayli came into Constantinople proper, he had decided that _Frith-rah_ never meant Efrafans to go upon the water; even the gentle motion of the ferry at the pier along the Golden Horn’s southern bank was enough to upset his stomach. He was more than happy to direct the offloading of the herd, from the shore.

 

Thlayli snorted at the mirthful looks from the Lapinians. “ _Frith-rah_ may have moved upon the face of the waters during creation, but it doesn’t mean he intended anyone else to.” There was a round of course chuckles from the rest of the _hellions_.

 

Mora leaned on the railing of the ship as Thlayli helped guide the herd. “Come now cousin, my ancestors made this trip while being chased by yours and we managed just fine.”

 

They headed north-east between the curtain wall of the city and the coast for nearly a mile and bypassing several gates. Thlayli didn’t know what to expect once they entered the city proper, but it wasn’t the vast green space that greeted them. To his left he could see the press of the urban center, and a massive gilded palace complex atop a hill. Directly in front he saw a long stone span of connected arches that linked two hills. It looked to be nearly a mile long, and straight as an arrow shot.

 

Hlao noted Thlayli’s wide eyed mein. “Lady Uzun owns an estate between the Venetian Quarter and the Leomakelon district; that’s where the Imperial Diadoch’s cousin Ormitiko Liontari and his Harem have their estate. We serve as a buffer between the Venetian Doge’s nephew and his wife, Gaspar and Isabella Phaelan. I know lions and wolves don’t normally get along, but last year Lady Lucretia had to deploy the Hellions to keep them from fighting in Lady Sophia’s olive grove. Very embarrassing.”

 

Thlayli shook his head at the idea of local lords feuding in the streets. _Marli-fa_ Vreka would have never tolerated that kind of thing back in Goreme. “Well I’m glad I don’t have to deal with that mess. I’m grateful Uzun-fa is hosting me until I figure out what to do next, but politics is, not really a strong suit among Efrafans.”

 

Hlao smiled in reassurance. “Of course you won’t have to deal with it. They’ll be Lady Uzun’s guests tonight; it would be a serious blemish on their reputations were they to devolve to feuding at the feast.”

 

Thlayli squawked. “Tonight?!”

 

“Oh yes.” The smile never left Hloa’s muzzle. “Lady Sophia is hosting a feast to honor Master Felix’s return. Everyone who's anyone will be there tonight. I’ll introduce you; well, I’ll point out and name them for you.”

 

Thlayli looked down at his threadbare herdsmam’s attire. “Is it too late to return to the ship?”

 

...

 

The herd, as well as Nildhristhol, were stabled in a paddock so new that Thlayli thought he could smell running sap. Hlao ushered him into one of the estate’s side houses from which rose smoke and steam. A small team of roe deer and otters proceeded to strip and scour the the road grime off of him, despite his protestations. Once his rough treatment in the bath was concluded, they swiftly stuffed him into a pair of parti-colored green and yellow pantaloons tied off at the knees and ankles, and a cloud white loose linen shirt tied at the elbows and wrists. Over this was draped a tabard which showed the Byzantine Eagle on one side, and on the other three yellow animal heads on a green background: one wolf, one boar, and one hare. This was cinched off with a simple cord. Finally, a green acorn hat with an ostrich plume was planted on his head, and they returned him to Hlao’s waiting paws.

 

“Well now, you could pass for a denizen of the city proper. Just a little more instruction and you’ll be ready for this evening.”

 

“Instruction?!” Thlayli hesitated. “Why, and from whom?”

 

“For tonight, and from me. You have taught me to manage a herd, and now I will teach you how to manage your manners.” Hlao drilled Thlayli on basic Byzantine social etiquette until the Vespers bells chimed from the various churches and the evening call to prayers at the few Mosques echoed throughout the city. “Well, that’s our cue. Time to introduce you to _La Signora_ Uzun and her sister.”

 

Hlao guided Thlayli into the Grand Hall. The outside of the massive brick structure seemed unimpressive aside from its size, but the interior was lavishly appointed in a plaster that scitilated in the light of dozens of oil lanterns throughout the hall. Inset alcoves, tall enough for a grown lion to stand upright, contained various sculptures and busts; the roof’s domed ceiling was supported along the wall by rose marble columns. In his short life, only the Great Hall of _Marlifa_ Vreka compared, having been carved entirely out of the very stone of the valley and gilt in polished onyx; it was able to host her entire _Hrair-lion_ and their families.

 

As they moved into the room, which had several servants of different species moving tables and benches and cushions into place, Hlao called to a seated pair of identical twin jills in identical dresses. “ _La Signora, La Signorina,_ may I present to you, Thayli _rooliti_ Kiraz of Goreme. Thlayli, before you are Lady Sophia santa Lucretia Uzun and Lady Lucretia santa Sophia Uzun.” He leaned into the taller jack and whispered, “Try not to get them mixed up.”

 

Thlayli knew from a few conversations with Felix that he was married to Sophia who was the political head of the family and the keeper of its history and secrets, while Hleengar, Mora and the rest of the _Hellions_ had more than once spoken of Lucretia’s exploits on the battlefield before she retired to commanding the House Guard. The _Marli_ on the left casually appraised everything in the room, her eyes gliding from one thing to the next, while the eyes of the jill on the right snapped from one individual to the next, assessing then discarding until both were looking at Thlayli with anticipation.

 

He felt almost insulted at the insinuation that he would confuse the two _Marlil_ in front of him; as far as he was concerned they were night and day. He knelt before the _Marli_ on the left. “ _Fritheas, Marlifa Uzun,”_ he shifted slightly and nodded his head towards the jill on the right, _“...Ni-Owsla Marli Uzun.”_

 

A hint of a smile crept onto the left jill’s muzzle while the one on the right snorted a short laugh. “I don’t know why you insist on doubting my husbands judge of character, dear sister. He hasn’t led us astray yet.” Sophia stood and nodded for Thlayli to rise.

 

“Yet, _Sophie-roo,_ yet.” Lucretia stood and directed her full attention on Thlayli. “At least now that your husband is back from this farce of a ruse we can move on with the business at paw. As for this _Efrafan,_ we'll see what he has in him before I make any final decision.” With that, the twins departed to continue with the final preparations for the evening.

 

...

 

Thlayli reflected on Ileana’s words earlier that day about how dangerous Constantinople could be. The Venetian wolves Gaspar and Isabella Phaelan; the Byzantine lion emperor’s cousin Ormitiko Liontari and his two wives Anna and Uni; Bogu ibn Okuz al Burak and his wife Sarah, the head of the city’s Porters Guild; the Arogant boar Cardinal Giuseppe de Boargia; Michael Melissenos-Stragopoulos, Ibex cousin to Patriarch Gregory III. Thalyli’s head swam as he sat at the Master’s Table in the circular domed Great Hall between Lucretia and the Cardinal.

 

He had hoped for a simple night of relaxation, perhaps join in a game of Bob-stones with the Hellions. Instead, he sat beside Uzun-fa’s sister-in-law desperately trying to not eat his meal out of order, or get the names of his dining companions wrong. His ears and eyes were nervously tracking across the room when he noticed something. Ormitiko and Umi were boisterously laughing at something, while Anna and Bogu spoke in hushed tones; neither looked at one another, but they leaned slightly towards one another.  

 

Just as his attention was shifting wholly to those two, he felt a slight jab to his ribs from Lucretia. “Don’t stare.” A glance showed she had not looked at him. “I need them to feel comfortable talking, or I’ll never learn what they are talking about.” He then noticed one of the Hellot’s standing near Ormitiko with a jug of wine, but with one ear pointed at Anna. It occurred to him then that a great deal of his nervousness was coming from Lucretia herself.

 

He focused on his meal to center himself, then took another glance around the room. This time, he saw various hellots with wine jugs or small platters of one treat or another standing in the eaves; specifically in the alcoves behind the table. When he pointed his ear to one, he heard a soft voice on the edge of his hearing speaking in Lapin. A glance showed the hellot standing behind the cardinal was barely moving his mouth in time with the voice. When he stretched and leaned towards Lucretia, the voice became clearer and was joined by several more. He started when she cleared her throat while sending him a sideways glance that promised pain if he didn’t return to his side of the dining place. From then on Thlayli was more alert, but less on edge. He was beginning to understand the point of the evening affair, even if the sorcery of the room eluded him.

 

Soon the places were cleared and Felix stood. “I must thank all of our gracious guests for coming. The evening is not yet over, but I must needs attend to business. Please, enjoy yourselves.” With that, he offered a paw to Sophia and retired towards one of the doors behind him. Most of the diners at the Masters table stood as well, though Anna did send a sympathetic look to her co-wife who was trying to wrangle an inebriated Ormitiko towards one of the lower tables where a minstrel was tuning up a lute.

 

Thlayli stood and was about to head towards the Hellions when Lucretia took him by the elbow and began guiding him towards the back room. “Not yet; you’ll be the star entertainment this evening, and I need to know before we go in there why Anna and Bogu were so interested in you, and why Felix insists I bring you into _my_ Hellion.” They arrived at an alcove where she stared at him pointedly.

 

“I don’t know!” Thlayli was frustrated. “I’m an ostrich herder; I only met your brother-in-law because I was escorting a friend here. This entire trip has been crazy from beginning to end!”

 

“What has been so crazy about it?” Her eyes bored accusingly into him.

 

“Everything! The dream, finding Ileana, the Hashishim, the Cossacks, all of it!”

 

Once Thlayli wound down he saw that Lucretia's accusing look was replaced by one of slight alarm and mild irritation. “I see it is my brother-in-law I need to take aside.” She huffed, then continued to guide him to the back room. “Come along then; the sooner you tell your story the sooner I can prepare for whatever fresh hell Felix’s damned luck has dragged onto my sister’s doorstep.”

 

They entered a sitting room with several padded benches and seats. A large tapestry hung on one of the walls next to a small fireplace, while a three pronged candelabra sat on a table in the middle of the room. Once they were both inside, Lucretia motioned to a pair of tall wolves, who moved another tapestry in front of the door, then departed themselves.

 

“Alright Felix,” Gaspar leaned towards the center of the room, “...you’ve got us all here. What was so important that it couldn’t wait for the Council of Lords?”

 

Felix looked to Sophia, who simply nodded. He turned to the group, all pleasantry cast aside. “During my last excursion, I managed to pick up more than a new company of cavalry birds. The individuals had quite the story to share. While I couldn’t detain the _Viovode’s_ representative,” there were sudden drawn breaths all around, “... I have with us her traveling companion; so rather than telling you second hand, I’ll have young Thlayli here regale you with his adventures.”

 

Giuseppe snorted. “What could some peasant herdsmam possibly have to say that warrants our attention?” He sneered down his snout at Thlayli.

 

Thlayli stood a little straighter; politics was a new world to him, but a challenge was still a challenge and _that_ he understood quite well. He looked the Reman Catholic Cardinal in the eyes. “Sultan Mehmed and the Ottoman Turks have allied with the Ismaili Nizari and the Don Cossack Horde. They are constructing a fleet of ships to carry the Cossacks anywhere in the Black Sea.”

 

There was a general row in the room until Anna lowed. “How many? How many ships are we talking about?”

 

Thlayli turned to the lioness, and for a moment thought he was talking to Sultan again. “Ileana seemed to feel the fleet would be able to carry most, if not all of the Horde.”

 

Isabella growled slightly. “All this on the word of some Gypsy fox?”

 

Another snort distracted the room, this time from Bogu. “That, ‘gypsy fox’ has the ear of the Devil Prince of the Danube himself. He will believe her.” The towering bull leaned back in his chair. “There’s been an uneasy truce between Tepisch and Mehmed since Vlad slew his own brother and freed Wallachia. With Edirne caught between him and us, Mehmed hasn’t dared move. If, however, he’s secured an alliance with Baghdad and the Kingdom of Georgia, he could have the military power to push through the Anatolian Plateau.”

 

Anna shook her head. “My aunt in Kochisar says the Ottoman Sultan’s forces are being kept at bay, but only just. More and more lords are either calling for more troops, or withdrawing to protect their own holdings. With our armies drawn so thin, the coastline is almost unprotected. No one has anticipated a sea invasion. Were an army of Steppe Horse Lords to land now, Constantinople would fall in matter of months.”

 

Michael turned to Giuseppe and the wolves. “This is not a threat to one city, but to all Christendom. If Constantinople falls, all of Europa will be open to attack. You know the Patriarch desires to put the Great Schism behind us. We must unite, Orthodox and Reman, if we are to survive this scourge!”

 

Giuseppe could be heard grinding his molars. “It is not nearly as simple as that; with the Plague in Furrara, the council has moved to Florence and into the greedy trotters of Philippe De Tuskani. That arrogant swine is absolutely opposed to anything less than the subjugation of the eastern churches under his thrice damned Anti-Pope!”

 

Isabella looked thoughtfully at her husband. “Isn’t Philippe in the middle of a feud with the Doge of Vulperra? What was his name?”

 

Gaspar nodded as a grin spread across his face. “Eduardo De Rosa. He has no real stake in Church politics, save how it might inconvenience Polis Luppa and diminish Philppe’s power in Florence. I think we could sway that shifty little vulpe to our cause.”

 

The wolves and boar looked between one another then nodded, whereon Giuseppe stood up. “You have our support. We will rally the faithful,” he glanced to the Phaelan’s, “...and the opportunistic, and stand firm with Constantinople.”

 

Anna stood next. “My cousin in Kochisar and my Cousin-in-Law here will thank you for any aid you can provide.”

 

Sophia smiled beautifically at the mammals around her. “Excellent. Unless there is anything more, I suggest we retire for the evening. You all have much to arrange, and Lucretia must see to the integration of our new _Strutes_ commander.” She nodded to Thlayli and Lucretia, both of whose ears flagged at the declaration.

 

...

 

The wave of song and thunder rushed forward as mammals rushed to meet it. They were washed away one by one. A rabbit poked its head out of the earth and looked at him, then ducked back in it’s hole as the wave crested.

 

Thlayli jolted awake to the sound of Matins bells and the morning calls to prayer. He was starting to really doubt that damned dream meant anything except his own frustration. He looked around the cell of a room he had been given. There was a low table with an unlit taper in a holder, as well as a simple grooming kit and a worn deer antler that was meant to be gnawed on. A small trunk was at the foot of his square rope-frame and straw mattress bed which sat in one corner of the room, while a tiny brick stove sat cold in the other.

 

On one wall was an Icon of some Orthodox Saint or another next to a shuttered window. He shook his head at that; The Seljuks, as well as the Reman and Orthodox Catholics had been trying to convert the Efrafans from _Frithrah e’Hayon_ for centuries now. As long as people insisted that _God_ had uncountable names, but refused to acknowledge _Frithrah_ as one of them, then he would ignore their efforts as had generations past. When his time came, _Inlerah_ would judge him and he would either join _Frithrah’s Owsla_ , or be cast to _Keharr’s_ talons, and no amount of begging would change that.

 

He found a number of articles in the chest, including his sword and the remains of his _Nild-Pezel._ He was soon dressed in leather reinforced riding breeches and a linen shirt, all in green and yellow. Securing his sword, he stepped out and was startled by a midnight black jill in breeches and tunic. He remained motionless for a moment until she huffed. “I am Bianca Magdalena Uzun. You may call me Magdalena or Lady Uzun.” She turned without preamble. “Follow me; we’ll get something to eat, then meet with my aunt and get your herd sorted out.”

 

Thlayli dutifully followed Magdalena to the kitchen where a simple porridge and toasted pide awaited. She seemed annoyed, though not necessarily at him, and having a silently glowering shadow as a dining partner was very unnerving, so he took a chance. “I hope I don’t offend, Magdalena,” he noted how she slumped slightly at the use of her honor name, “... but I didn’t see you last night. I would have thought _Marli-fa_ Uzun and Uzun-fa would have had you at the Master’s Table.”

 

Her posture shifted slightly at the use of _Efrafan_ honorifics, then gave a chagrined look. “The last time Giuseppe, I mean _Cardinal de Boargia_ was here, I kicked him in the snout. _Tarli-fa_ didn’t want a repeat of that incident.” Thlayli coughed at her calling her father ‘Fat-head’. “Come, if you’re finished then we have work to do.”

 

They headed to the new stables and found a couple of dozen mixed mammals in Hellion livery trying to wrangle the unruly herd, while Lucretia and Hlao looked on from the fence. Nildhristhol peeled himself out of the herd and headed over to greet Thlayli. Hlao gave a shrug when he looked over to the new arrivals. “They insisted they could do it themselves.”

 

Thlayli rubbed his ostrich's throat. “Well clearly they can’t. They’re just going to anger the herd if this keeps up.” He looked pointedly at Hloa. “You know what to do; get to it before someone gets trampled or kicked.”

 

Lucretia looked over at Thlayli while Hlao set to work calming the herd. Thlayli looked back. “If, as _Marli-fa_ Uzun said last night, I am to be in charge of your ostriches, then I’m not going to let that herd be driven to stampede by the ego’s of the Hellion.”

 

The elder jill snorted and looked into the paddock where Hloa was now guiding the herd to one corner to lie down. “She didn’t say you were to be our Master of Birds; she said you were to command our new _Strutes._ ” She hopped off the fence and padded over to him and Magdalena, her years of warfare lending her an easy predatory grace. “I won’t gain-say her, and Hleengar insists that you would make a good addition to the Hellion. But I don’t need another strong arm, I need a cavalry commander. Show me that it is you.”

 

Thlayli nodded and hopped over the paddock fence. Hlao had grounded the herd by this point, so Thlayli signaled them to relax. The birds remained laying down but their heads came up. “Alright everybody.” The gathered hellions turned to him. “I need you to slowly make your way through the herd. The birds need to get used to you, and I need to know who they will let near them. That means you two as well.” He pointed to the two wolves from the night before, who were sitting on the fence rail.

 

One shrugged and hopped down, but the other balked. “I don’t know how to ride!”

 

Thlayli waved him on. “That I can fix, but I can’t make a bird like its rider. All the skill in the world won’t do anyone any good if their mount is too busy trying to kill them.” When he turned back to the herd, he saw Magdalena was there with the others. A glance at Lucretia showed a slight smirk on her face. He turned back to the task at paw.

 

After a few minutes there were twenty four mammals that the birds didn’t automatically nip or hiss at, including Magdalena and the hesitant wolf. Lucretia gave him a reprieve. “They are my sister’s guards; I can’t afford to lose them.”

 

From there it was simply a matter of finding out who were the best riders. Those twenty still included Magdalena, as well as three roe deer, a pair of jackals and Mora. “You’re going to make me suffer for those first few sparring matches, aren’t you?”

 

“Not at all.” Thlayli gave a wicked grin and nodded at the ostriches. “They’ll do that for me.”

 

The rest of the day was spent getting the riders and their mounts used to each other, as well as getting the Hellions more comfortable on the backs of the birds. By Vespers, the entire troop was able to remain on their birds backs while walking them around the paddock. Mora was a natural, as was Mahmud, the eldest of the roe deer. Magdalena was passable, but needed some coaching. “Don’t fight him; you’ll lose. He’s too stupid to know you’re supposed to be in charge, but smart enough to know he’s bigger than you. Just learn to work with him.”

 

As everyone was readying for dinner, Thlayli saw the hellot who had been watching Anna the night before. He had an idea, and got her attention. “Do you know if Asllani-fa, Anna I think, if she has or intends to send someone to her kin in Kochisar?”

 

“Lady Liontari?” The jill started at the rather pointed question. “I, think in three days they are sending a tribute for the young Lord’s birthday, but...”

 

“ _Narn-ni_ ! That’s all I needed to know.” He then left the perplexed servant hare and rejoined the Hellion. That night, he fashioned a crude brick tablet and inscribed a message for _Marlifa_ Vrecka in the ancient Nemean Clawform script containing everything he had learned and done since leaving Ankyra. Once done, he set the missive in the banked coals of his little stove to harden overnight. The next day during the afternoon repast, Thlayli approached Lucretia. “ _Ni-Owsla_ Uzun-fa, I have a favor to ask.”

 

“Would this favor involve the second wife of the Diadoch’s cousin?” She didn’t bother looking up from her soup.

 

“Yes.” Thlayli didn’t even hesitate. That got Lucretia to look up. “I need to send word to my family, to let them know that I am alright and to warn them of what is coming. _Marlifa_ Vrecka only sent me and my kin as far as Ankyra, and I do not want my family to pay for my staying here in Constantinople.” He handed the small engraved tablet to Lucretia. “Kochisar is on the way to Efrafa; only a few days travel, and I know Lord Arslani’s eldest daughter Sultan, and his youngest wife Yeter. If either one is given this, and asked to give it to the paws of the ostrich herders who fought three bandits, they will make sure it arrives in Goreme safely.”

 

She stared at him for a moment, pondering the tablet in her paw, then signaled a nearby hellot over and gave them the instructions Thlayli had asked for. “You are simultaneously quite cunning and yet a truly terrible spy, you know that?” She chuckled at the confused look on his face. “This has all the marks of a cunning plan to sneak a secret message out of the city, except for the ‘telling me’ part.”

 

He sank in relief. “Then it is a good thing you do not need me to be a spy. Thank you. If you’ll excuse me, your niece seems about ready to tear Mahmud’s ego off and beat Mora to death with it.”  


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past catches up with the present as events in far away lands require actions by Thlayli.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright Disclaimer
> 
> The following is a work of fanfiction: there is no intent of this author to violate, transgress, profit from or infringe upon the Copyright and Intellectual Property (IP) rights of the parent Copyright or IP holders of characters, events or locations belonging to the same which may be contained within this work. To reiterate; this is a Derivative Work meant to be used under Fair Use as described in 17 U.S.C. § 101 and § 107.

Chapter 7

 

Thlayli was diligent in his new position of commander and trainer of the Uzun House _Strutes_.

 

“Come on, catch up to him!”

 

For the past three months he drilled his _Hrayfa_ on riding techniques for nearly every daylight hour, in addition to the weapons training that everyone participated in with the rest of the Hellion.

 

“Watch out for her!” -whack-

 

He had decided to divide the riders into three equal groups of seven, with himself, Mahmud and Mora each in command of one.

 

“Magdalena, what are you...” -womp-Splat!-

 

One of the favored training methods was an old Efrafan game, _Nayltohre Hray._

 

“Hah! Try to beat that!” Magdalena brandished her _Pafroon,_ or Striking Pole while riding around the _Ohre_ bag in the goal. Several of the other _Hrayfa_ were picking themselves off of the ground and remounting for another round. One was her own Captain, Mahmud.

 

Thlayli and his own squad were sitting this round out as he studied the other riders. They were all competent soldiers, and were quickly learning to port their skills over to mounted combat. However, the process of relearning how to fight seemed to have caused them to devolve to individuals, rather than a unit. He thought it was time to remind them of that.

 

“Point to Mahmud.” Thlayli called over the green. He noted Magdalena bristled slightly at the implicit censure. “Go ahead and reset the _Ohre_ bag; it’s our turn,” Thlayli barked out, just as Mura’s squad started to retire from the field. “No, you’re on the field as well. My squad will play you both.”

 

“This is some sort of trick, isn’t it.” Mura gestured with his _Pafroon._ “You’re going to use some nasty little Efrafan trick on us.”

 

“Of course I am. That’s the whole point of this; to teach you to use what you know and what you have learned. Now, ready?” Everybody was on their mounts and at the outskirts of the field with their squads. “ _Paf!”_ The game began anew.

Once everyone was charging towards the bag, Thlayli started to order his squad. “Left and right flanks, go!” Three riders broke left and three right. As the squads converged on the bag, his riders struck the flanks of the mob. They hit them with the leather-wrapped, gum-arabic wads at the ends of their poles and nearly half the opposing riders were unseated. Thlayli reached the bag first and, as he knew they would, Magdalena and Mora tried to unseat him rather than take the bag. A soon as his pole was through the rope loop at the top of the bag, he had Nildhristhol stop and ground. Magdalena and Mora’s poles sailed harmlessly over his head and their ostriches rebounded off of one another. Once they were stalled, he spurred Nildhristhol into a run from the ground.

 

“Reform!” His squad broke off from harassing the remaining riders and rushed to surround him as they charged to the goal. Just as they arrived, he called out, “ _Brek!”_ His squad surrounded him and grounded. They then dismounted and formed a pike ring around him, causing the rest of the riders to halt their own charges. Thlayli then walked the bag to the goal and set it down.

 

Once he turned and faced his _Hrayfa_ , he called them to dismount and rest for a moment. “Would anyone care to guess why this round turned out this way?”

 

“Yes, like I said; another one of your Montebanc tricks.” There was slightly more heat in Mora’s words than there were earlier.

 

Thlayli gave a quizzical look. “Really? And which part was that? Have you all not learned to ride in formation? To stop suddenly and then charge from the ground? Perhaps you mean breaking into groups and attacking the flanks of your opponents? Isn’t that a basic infantry tactic you practice on foot regularly?”

 

Magdalena let out an exasperated huff. “You beat us because you were acting as one unit, and we were a disorganized mob.”

 

Thlayli beamed at her. “Thank you.” He looked over the now thoughtful mammals in front of him. “This is not just a game. This is where you have the chance to use what you have learned; _all_ you have learned, and apply it before you have to use it on the battlefield.” He noticed one of Mora’s Jackals sniffing the air. “It looks like supper is upon us. We’ll retire the _Ohre_ bag for today. After our meal we’ll drill formations, breaking up and reforming as I did today. We’ll also work on ways to break the _Brek_ that stopped you earlier. I don't want anyone to fall for these, ‘Montebanc Tricks’ again.”

 

...

 

That evening after dinner Thlayli was summoned to Lady Sophia’s study, which turned out to be the room in which he had met several of Constantinople’s most influential, if not most prominent, citizens. As he had not had another dream recently, something which Felix insisted he tell Sophia about, he was uncertain what he was being called for. He arrived to find the sisters Uzun and Felix, as well as Hleengar.

 

“How ready are they?” Thlayli was startled by Lady Lucretia’s question.

 

“Ready for what? I think they are coming along, and in another season and they should be ready to...”

 

“A season?!” There was clear frustration, and a small amount of fear in her eyes.

 

“Marli Uzun, it takes YEARS to learn to ride, just as it takes years to learn to wield a blade. I don’t have to train your Hellion how to fight, and we are at this every day so there is more progress then I would expect, but as of this moment they are at best a _Hray-lion.”_

 

Hleengar pursed his lips. “Running Lion?”

 

Thlayli nodded. “Mounted heavy infantry. We can get around faster, and against Janissaries or other light infantry we could be very effective but I wouldn’t risk them against another veteran _Strutes_ unit.”

 

Sophia laid a paw on her sisters arm. “It will have to do.” She turned to Thlayli. “I have received word that Mehmed knows about Ileana; that she survived and has been sent to her homeland. Our spies in Edirne say he had ordered what ships were completed for the Cossacks to launch and reinforce Edirne, possibly to attack Constantinople. A fleet of 50 ships launched from Batumi, each with 20 Cossacks and 100 supporting animals as well as some of the Sultans own Topcu Artillery, though we don’t know how many.”

 

Felix waved a paw at Thlayli’s stricken look. “Not to worry too much, lad; the storm earlier this month drove them aground, though we have received word that Sinope has fallen. They are now making their way here overland.”

 

Lucretia sent an annoyed look at Felix. “The Patriarch has called upon a Holy Crusade, and the Diadoch has commanded all the Houses to call up their _Themata_ and march to Edirne.”

 

“Edirne?!” Thlayli was all but struck dumb. “The Don Cossacks march here with a host of nearly 10,000, and the Emperor wants to go to Edirne?!”

 

“Yes.” Sophia exuded a sense of calm. “We are not the only power that marches on Mehmed’s supposed capital. The Voivode, Vlad Tepisch, also marches on Edirne. His hatred of the Ottomans is vast, and it is his intent to avenge himself upon them. This is why Mehmed has called his attack early. It is now a race to see whether Edirne will fall first, or Constantinople.”

 

Thlayli sagged. “ _M’saion Frithrah narn_. I suppose it doesn’t matter how ready we are; the crucible is upon us.” He stood as straight as possible. “Where will we be going?”

 

Hleengar shuffled uncomfortably. “I and the bulk of the Hellion will be going to Edirne with the rest of the Crusade. You and the _Strutes_ will be going to Hadrianopolis.”

 

Thlayli resisted the urge to demand why. His forbearance was met by a satisfied snort from Lucretia and smiles from Felix and Sophia. Sophia rose from her seat and placed something in Thlayli’s paw. “You are _Videre, Veheeri_. When you arrive in Hadrianopolis, seek out the House of Hraydayne and show this to Marcus and Bythia that they may know you speak with our voice.” She clasped her paws about his. “Trust the dream; it has led you to this moment, and it will guide you to the right path”

 

...

 

Once Lady Lucretia informed the entire Hellion of the course of action the House of Uzun would be taking, Thlayli set about preparing for the journey ahead. The Cossacks only needed to cover 40 leagues to reach Hadrianopolis and had a one-month head start, but would be moving with a supply train across unfamiliar, hostile terrain. Depending on how much resistance they faced, Thlayli thought they might have as much as two weeks lead on the Don Host. If, however, Lady Anna Liontari’s reports were accurate and the various provisional lords were pulling back, they may simply pay tribute to the host to be spared. If that were the case, his _Strutes_ might only have a few days before the Cossacks arrived.

 

Every mammal under his command would carry two days rations for themselves and their mount; he intended to make the 50 league trek to Hadrianopolis in two days, and so could not afford to be burdened by a supply cart. In addition to the heavy Menavlion lobed spear, each soldier also carried a bronze headed mace and a buckler, while Thlayli, Mahmud and Mora all carried swords. He chuckled slightly as he looked at his own armor and remembered Cemil’s words from so many months ago: it was a lamelar suit of polished bronze plates, each engraved with the double headed eagle of Constantinople, and looked very much like it was woven from bronze Numis coins. His last stop before departing was to the treasury to secure his _Strutes’_ pay for the next month.

 

There was some slight complaining from the _Strutes,_ but they were loyal to the Uzuns and the next morning found all 21 and their ostriches on the far side of the Bosphorus bound for Hadrianopolis. Thlayli did his best to continue their training in unit actions by having individual squads scout ahead. For the Hellions, it was a simple but effective reminder of their role as skirmishers.

 

During the last half of the second day, once Hadrianopolis was in sight, Mora’s squad reported they were being followed in the treeline, but whoever it was was keeping their distance. They reached the walls of Hadrianopolis by sundown and were immediately challenged at the gate. A rather portly chamois in ill fitting armor approached with some hesitancy. “Who are you, what do you want?!”

 

It took a moment for Thlayli to remember that he was the commander of this military unit, and not simply an ostrich herder or a fellow Hellion; the _Hrayfa_ were waiting on him to speak. He rode forward a few paces and cleared his throat. “I am _Arches_ Thlayli. We are _Strutes_ of the House of Uzun in Constantinople. By order of Lord and Lady Uzun, we are commanded to report to Lord Marcus and Lady Bythia of the House of Hraydayne.” Thlayli took out the token Sophia had given him, a signet ring bearing the seal of House Uzun, and showed it to the sentry.

 

“Oh, of course. Can’t be too careful, what with the Gypsies washing ashore and all. The storms brought ills of all kinds to our shores, not just the Horde.” The chamois began heading back towards the gate.

 

Thlayli turned to his _Strutes_ in confusion. “Mora, are Gypsies...”

 

His Lieutenant nodded thoughtfully for a moment. “Romany, yes, but others as well. We can’t be certain it’s her.”

 

Thlayli wheeled around to face the forest. “Yes we can; Marlifa Uzun said to trust the dream and that’s what I intend to do.” The Lapinian hares looked on with slight alarm at that declaration as Thlayli rode towards the treeline. He stopped fifty paces from a broad hazel tree and called out. “ _Doamna_ Ileana Adame!”  

 

After a few moments, a familiar reddish brown muzzle popped up from behind one of the roots. “ _Brek-li!”_

 

The gate sentry had just returned when he saw Thlayli talking to a fox, who then called into the forest. Within moments, dozens of foxes were cautiously making their way out of the treeline. The portly cervid bleated in alarm, went rigid and fell over. The comotion attracted Thlayli. “There is something very wrong with that goat. Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought you were going back to your people?”

 

Ileana beamed and gestured to the growing skulk. “This is _ceată mea._ ” She then began rattling off names as foxes bobbed, waved, hopped and yipped in response.

 

“ _Arches!_ ” Thlayli turned to Magdalena’s call. “We need to get inside before they shut the gate.”

 

“Right.” He turned back to the skulk to find all but Ileana had already retreated into the woods.

 

Ileana laid a paw on his leg. “We will talk more soon. Until then, we are here when you need us.” With that, she joined her kin.

 

Thlayli shook his head and turned back to the _Strutes_. “Alright. Pick up our rotund friend and let’s get to the House of Hraydayne; I imagine they have as many questions for us as we have for them.”

 

...

 

Gabrieli Tskhenisvili poured over the maps of the region he had seized upon their forced arrival in Sinope. He clasped a glass sphere in the split of his right hoof, using it to try to make out the miniscule script of the otter-sized document. His ever faithful wolfservant, Luka Mgelidze, diligently reapplied the silver gilding on the left half of his left hoof which had been dislodged in the days earlier fighting. For generations uncounted, the wolves of the steppes had served beside the horse tribes as their craftsmammals and scouts, while the mighty herds themselves were the bulwark and sword that defended the lands and the strong backs that cleared it.

 

He glanced down as Luka growled low in his throat. “ _Karishkali_ , the smelly goat and his murderers are coming.”

 

Gabrieli snorted and shook his mane in frustration; Hazim, the Sultans master of the Tocpu artillery, had been a continuous thorn in his hoof ever since demanding they launch months before the entire fleet was finished. “Let them in; I will hear whatever new complaint he has for me today.”

 

Luka nodded and headed to the entry of the yurt, throwing the opening aside even as the perfumed Muflon drew breath to announce himself. “You are expected.” Luka then returned to his place at Gabrieli’s side.

 

Hazim gathered himself and strode in, followed by seven small cloaked figures. “We are advancing too slowly. You were ordered...”

 

“Where are you?” Hazim was brought short by the Steppe Horse’s question punctuated by the wolf’s throaty growl, though his escorts were nonplussed.

 

“Well, we are in what is soon to be Sultan...”

 

“I did not ask you where are _we,_ I asked where are _You?_ ” Gabrieli slowly stood up.

 

Hazim quailed as the horse lord towered over him. “I...I am the chosen representative of...”

 

“Where, Are, You?!” Gabrieli bellowed. He sneered as the cervid collapsed in terror, though he did note the seven mammals did not move to protect the cowering mouflon. He refocused on Hazim. “You are within _my_ encampment, in the very Yurt where I was born. Make no mistake; I, _Gabrielis Kandak’eba_ and the rest of the Don Host serve Sultan Mehmed at his request, _not_ at his pleasure. Do not ever presume to come into my home and make demands again.”

 

Gabrieli sat down again. While Hazim was gathering himself up, the Cossack warlord peered intently. “Now what was it you intended to _ask_ of me?”

 

Hazim cleared his throat. “Well, the advance is too slow. Edirne is soon to be pressed on all sides. Our spies in Venice say several Arogant houses are mobilizing to support Constantinople, and there are rumors the Teutonic Knights have volunteered their services to _Kazikli Voyvoda!_ If we do not reach Constantinople in a month’s time, Edirne will fall!”

 

Gabrieli snorted. “That may be true, but while Mehmed may claim these lands, they are not sworn to him. If we blindly charge across the land as fast as your birds may pull your guns, we leave ourselves open to attack from behind. Every fortress we sack is a stronghold denied to our enemies, and every village that swears fealty is resources denied to them as well. As we stand now, should Edirne fall your Sultan may retreat to Sinope in comfort and security. Meanwhile we could continue to press on Constantinople while their armies are scattered across the land.”

 

Gabrieli resumed reviewing the maps of the coast, while Luka returned to gilding his hoof. “Now if you will excuse me, I must plan our advance through Azdavay.”

 

Hazim turned with as much dignity and haste as he could muster, followed by the seven with him. Once away from the yurt, he rounded on his escorts. “What happened back there? Grand Master Sabbah ibn Sabbah sent you _Fida’i_ Death Worshipers here to protect me!”

  
“No.” The seven replied as one, then the centermost turned to Hazim. “We are here to serve the will of _Allah_ and his angel _Inlerah_.” Piercing golden eyes cowed the larger mouflon. “You were not in any danger; our _zorn_ will come from _Zili ‘iynl,_ the Shadow of Inle and the talons of _Keharr._ It is foreseen.” The seven turned as one and continued on. “When that day comes, rejoice and join _Allah_. Until then, you are safe.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thlayli and his growing troop move into the Kastamone Province and prepare to scout and delay the oncoming Horde.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright Disclaimer
> 
> The following is a work of fanfiction: there is no intent of this author to violate, transgress, profit from or infringe upon the Copyright and Intellectual Property (IP) rights of the parent Copyright or IP holders of characters, events or locations belonging to the same which may be contained within this work. To reiterate; this is a Derivative Work meant to be used under Fair Use as described in 17 U.S.C. § 101 and § 107.

Chapter 8

  
  


It was well past sundown when the fainting goat guard, who had fainted, returned to his post and the _Strutes_ were guided to the House of Hraydayne. The birds were stabled and the troop was housed in a small dormitory for the night. Thlayli was assured by the master of servants, who continually gave nervous glances at the jackals under Mora’s command, that Lord Marcus an Lady Bythia would speak with him in the morning.

 

The next morning, as the troopers were tending to their duties, Marcus and Bythia summoned Thlayli to a meeting. He arrived at a small library similar to Sophia’s sitting room, but with many more books. Multiple maps of the Black Sea coast were spread over a low table. Marcus was standing over the table muttering to himself while Bythia lounged in a chair nearby. Both glanced up when Thlayli walked in.

 

“Ah, good. Come in, come in. Take a look at this.” Marcus gestured to the maps between them. “This business with Sinope has everyone running scared, even my brother-in-law.”

 

Thlayli walked over and looked at the maps. They were dotted with cities and and routes, all noted in the Aegean script which he had only just started to learn. The peninsula that sat halfway between the East and West coasts, jutting north into the Black Sea, had a red stone placed on it. Thlayli assumed that was Sinope. There was a line of marks and notes leading South and West of there following a river valley leading inland towards what seemed to be a pair of valley’s and another small city.  He gestured to the spot on the map. “What is this?”

 

“Hm? Oh, that’s Azdavay. It’s a farming and trading town under Roouan, the Satrap of Kastamone. It’s all settled by the Small Folk.” Thlayli had learned this name for rabbits from the staff under Sophia Uzun. His vision blurred as he traced a digit along the route from Sinope to Azdavay: a dark wave breaking over a valley, while rabbits peaked out of their warrens.

 

He was shaken out of his reverie when Marcus thumped the table. “...don’t know what Felix is thinking, sending troops out here. These are clearly just raiders from Sinope. Let Roouan deal with them. We have more immediate concerns, like that Gypsy-fox rabble that have settled in the _Colurnis Rex_ Wood!”

 

“Now now, Marcus; Felix is just trying to assert himself. You know _The Sisters_ rule despite him.” Thlayli resisted the urge to grind his teeth at the dismissal of the _Marlil_ Uzun. “I understand you brought my niece with you. Where is she?”

 

Thlayli turned to face Bythia. “She is currently attending to her duties along with the rest of the _Strutes_.” He saw how they both seemed to bristle at the idea of their kin doing menial work. “She should be finished by now. By your leave, I’ll inform her of your interest, then I’ll see about the foxes in the wood.”

 

“Very good, very good.” Marcus returned to muttering over his maps.

 

Thlayli made his way to his quarters and removed the pay box, then headed to the stables. The _Strutes_ had finished their morning duties, and soon gathered around him. “Alright, we’ll be heading out tomorrow, so I’m giving you your pay now.” There was a general cheer as he began passing out the coins. “Yes, good and all. We’re going to Azdavay to scout out the Horde movements and are likely to be away for some time, so stock up and be ready to ride at dawn. Magdalena, your aunt and uncle are asking after you.You should take some time to visit them.”

 

Her brow creased for a moment. “Why in God’s name would I want to do that?” She worried the gold coin in her paw. “And what will you be doing while the rest of the _Strutes_ runs amuck in the city?”

 

Thlayli began saddling Nildhristhol. “I’m heading out to ‘Hazel-rah’s Wood’ to see what brought Ileana and her kin back to Byzantium.”

 

“Excellent!” She barked a laugh and began saddling her bird _Mikros Diaolos_ . She interrupted Thlayli as he began to object. “I’m sorry, you were saying how as _Videre_ you need an escort?” There was some uncomfortable shuffling from the rest of the troop.

 

Thlayli huffed in frustration, then mounted. “You’re ignoring your kin and blaming it on me? Trying for a promotion by having your aunt and uncle murder me won’t work out as well as one might think.” That earned a slight chuckle from everyone as they headed out into the city. Thlayli glanced at her as they began riding towards the gate. “Why are you really doing this?”

 

Magdalena huffed. “You met my aunt and uncle; would you want to spend a day with them? Listening to them endlessly complain how I’m not being a ‘proper lady of the realm’ will end up _exactly_ as well as I’d expect.” She spat to the side. “And my stated reason is also true: there is a long history of _Videre_ in the Hraydayne line, and an equally long history of them getting themselves killed in pursuit of their visions. Aunt Lucretia gave it me in charge to make sure that didn’t happen to you.”

 

Thlayli fidgeted uncomfortably in his saddle as they passed out of the city gate. “I don’t feel like _Veheeri_ , and I don’t like the attention.”

 

“Then you know how I feel about my Aunt and Uncle trying to get me more invested in court politics. Well, where do we look for your foxes?”

 

Thlayli considered the enormous Hazel tree in front of them as they rode. “There seemed to be a great number of them, and with how distrustful everyone is of them I imagine they’ll be as far from the city as reasonable. You’ve visited here from time to time in your youth?” He smirked when she nodded. “If you are anything like me, you slipped away regularly for ‘adventures’. Where is a good spot for an ‘army encampment’ in these woods near a stream?” She lit up with her own grin and spurred her mount into a swift jog as they passed under the boughs of the ancient tree.

 

Thlayli estimated they had ridden for a quarter of an hour when he and Magdalena sensed they were being shadowed. This continued for another quarter of an hour, until they arrived at a clearing near a brook. An encampment of nearly 150 nervous foxes of all ages were gathered there. They had built a few sturdy looking hewn log huts, as well as several large, unfinished carts. Other, more extravagant carts, were being repaired, though there were only a few birds to pull them all. Everywhere was a riot of contrasting red, white and black.

 

“Ioana, Scarlat! Come meet my friend!” Thlayli grounded his mount as he saw Ileana walking towards him with two smaller foxes in tow. She stopped a few feet from him and beamed. “Thlayli, these are my children: Ioana,” the bright-eyed little vixen smiled and waved, “...and Scarlat.” The timid but vibrantly red young todd nodded while glancing at the still mounted Bianca. “Children, this is Thlayli. He is the brave hare who saved me and brought me home.”

Thlayli smiled at the two children. “ _Frithaes_ Ioana and Scarlat.” He glanced at Ileana. “Where is your husband; Ioan, was it?”

 

She hummed happily. “He and a few others are up-stream fishing...”

 

Scarlat tried to hide a smirk as Ioana piped up, “...and Papa told mama to stay at the camp because she will just scare the fish away!”

 

Ileana looked in mock-shock at her daughter then teasingly chased her children back into camp. Thlayli looked over his shoulder at Magdalena. “I’ll be going into the camp now. You should come down from there and join me.” He noticed the stiff look she gave the rustic foxes. “Unless you have somewhere else to be; your aunt and uncle must be looking for you by now.” Her ears flagged at that and she promptly dismounted.

 

The two made their way into the camp amid much warmer looks and greetings when Ileana rejoined them. She guided them to a central fire where an aged todd sat court. “This is Petru, my Prince.”

 

Both Thlayli and Magdalena glanced at one another at that. “I thought Vlad was your Prince?” Thlayli gestured to Ileana. “I know you sent word to the court in Targoviste.”

 

There was a general chuckle from the gathered foxes. “Vlad is _Voivode_ of Wallachia, not of Romani. I did go to Targoviste, but then I went home and told my people of you and your brothers; of how you took care of me and defended me even from your own. We are, I do not know your word: _clevetit._ Many treat us badly because we are Romani, or because we are _Vulpi_. I tell my prince, here we may not be so. With your people we may simply be. And I owe you a debt.” Ileana stood taller at that. A vibrant red todd walked up beside her and took one of her paws. Thlayli assumed by the presence of Ioana and Scarlat with him, that this was Ioan. “I cannot repay you from across the sea. That is why we come.” She looked chagrined. “The sea storm last month is why we are here, and not on our way to your lands.”

 

Thlayli was stunned by what she had said. “Well, I will tell my _Marlifa_ for all the good it will do.”

 

Magdalena snorted at that. “I may not be Efrafan, but even I know what _Owslafa_ is and what it means to your people.” She all but jabbed a claw at him. “We are going into battle soon and none of the _Strutes_ can afford having you second guessing yourself.”

 

Every fox ear perked up at that statement. Ileana rested a paw on his leg. “You are going to battle?”

 

Thlayli nodded. “You probably didn’t hear, as it sounds like it happened about when you launched, but Mehmed found out you survived and launched as much of the fleet as was ready: 50 ships carrying 1000 Cossacks, 5000 auxiliaries and it’s estimated around 500 cannon from his _Tocpu_ artillery.” There was a murmur of alarm in the camp. “They were washed ashore near Sinope by the same storm as you, and have been making their way East overland. The last report I’d heard had a portion of the Horde marching on Kastamone Province.”

 

“Then we help!” Ioan declared as several foxes stood up. “You have brought one of ours back from the dead.” He clasped Ileana’s paw in his while their children clung to their legs. “This is a debt owed by all, and we will repay.”

 

Magdalena was about to speak up when Thlayli held up a paw to her. “We are going into a fight with the Don Cossacks and _Frithrah_ knows what else. We’re going to need all the help we can get.” He looked pointedly at Ioan. “That said, how?”

 

A short series of yipped commands later had half of the mammals in the camp carrying either a short recurve bow and a paw axe, or a stave-sling capped on the base with an iron spear head.   

 

...

 

Thlayli and Magdalena stayed in the camp through dinner at midday, then headed back to the city. Once back in the Hraydayne estate, Magdalena payed her kin a grudging visit while Thlayli went to find a scribe and a messenger pigeon service. He was surprised to find one of the carrier routes was to Kochisar. He had two messages sent, one to Constantinople and one to Tuz Golu with the request it be forwarded to Efrafa. He did his best to sum up what he had learned, as well as what he intended to do and where. Once he returned to the Hraydayne estate, he found that the troops had secured roughly two weeks of supplies between them. Some were still out and about until vespers, but by the time supper was served the entire unit was together again.

 

They were up and out of the main gate by dawn the next day. The rest of the troops noted Magdalena’s refusal to even look back. “No tears for the family left behind?” Mora playfully chided.

 

Magdalena snorted. “Better two weeks in the field with a company of foxes than one more meal with Aunt Bythia.”

 

The rest of the troop started at that. “Captain?” Mahmud rode up beside Thlayli.

 

Thlayli nodded to the ancient Hazel tree as the unit headed west. “We will be joined by a company of 20 archers and 55 spears from the Romani. They are on paw, so we will be moving at their pace for two days until we reach Azdavay. If I understood Marcus’ maps correctly, there should be a chasm and a large cave we can use as our base there.” He noted the discomfort of some of the troops, though not from any who had been in Felix’s company from Ankyra. “These are from Ileana’s clan. They have no stake in this war, but they have chosen to fight by our side. I will trust in them, and in the providence that has brought them to our shores on this eve of the Patriarch’s Crusade.” The troop stilled at that, and some even crossed themselves.

 

No one saw any of the foxes until they settled into camp that night. They trickled in by threes and fours until all were accounted for. They brought with them a bounty of forest forage, which went a great way to calm the fears of the troop. As supper was winding down, one of the hares in Thlayli’s squad began singing. Soon the night was filled with music and laughter. After a round of dancing, Ileana and Ioan came and sat next to Thlayli. They were soon joined by Magdalena.

 

Thlayli smirked at her apparent protectiveness. “I think we’ve established Ileana’s kin are not a threat.”

 

She snorted and gave him a level stare. “ _Videre_ you may be, but you are not Thlayli-rah yet; I have my orders from your commander, and I will not be found wanting.” The three with Thlayli chuckled at his discomfort. “So, _Captain_ , what is our plan?”

 

Thlayli stared into the fire. “We’re coming into the first season’s harvest. It’s probably one of the reasons the Cossacks are coming this way.” The others gave him a curious look. He shrugged. “They left in a hurry with the intent to go directly to Edirne and reinforce Mehmed. I doubt provisions for a land march were high on the list of their priorities. They’ll need provender for themselves and their pack animals; especially if they are moving their cannon.”

 

He looked back and forth between the three others. “ _U naylte_ , the rabbits, are the key. We need to make contact with the rabbits of Azdavay. Beg, borrow, cajole, I don’t care, but we need them to gather as much of their harvest as possible and move it back towards Hadrianopolis. The Don Horde will stall out if they can’t support a march.”

 

Ioan pointed a stick at Thlayli. “They are horses; they can survive on grass.”

 

Thlayli huffed. “So can I, but that’s all I can do. If I want to work and fight I need more than just young shoots and bark, and so will they. If we can cut them off from food, they may be forced to turn back to Sinope. Even if they don’t, then by the time they reach Hadrianopolis that fainting guard we met could be their equal in battle.”

 

“Ha!” Mahmud bleated out a laugh from near the fire. “Nothing could be more magnificent as the March of the Sacred Fainting Guard of Hadrianopolis!” The camp laughed and cheered as Mahmud spun a farcical tale of the cowardly exploits of the Fainting Guard.

 

Ileana leaned over. “And if they have already taken the fruit of the land?”

 

“Then we find a way to steal it back for the people of Azdavay.” Thlayli tossed a twig into the fire. “Even with your people to help we are outnumbered. If it is only 10 to one, it is still too much for a direct confrontation. We must be cunning if we are to survive, much less win.”

 

...

 

It was midday the next day when they all arrived at the Catak Canyon just east of Azdavay. Medil Cavern was found with a little difficulty as it had some overgrowth covering part of the entrance. There were signs the caves were regularly used to store grains through the winter, though none were present yet. “Mahmud, get our camp here settled. Mora, take your squad up to the ridge and scout out some alternate campsites; also see if you can gather some extra provender for the birds. Hamid,” Thlayli turned to one of the hares under his command, “...you’re with Mahmud. Magdalena, you’re with my squad now.” He huffed at her questioning gaze. “I’m scouting out Azdavay and the farming valley and I don’t feel like fighting you about it or leaving Mahmud short a rider.”

 

Mora grinned at them. “Oh sure, take the noble’s daughter on the romantic ride through the countryside and leave us to tend to the camp.”

 

Thlayli barked out to his squad before Magdalena could go after Mora, though the look she sent him promised pain upon her return. They had just crested the eastern ridge when they saw the farming valley: the summer planted rye that dominated everything was golden brown, an indication to Thlayli that it was nearly, if not already, time for harvesting. A few built up hummocks could be seen with smoke coming from them.

 

Magdalena noted his confused look. “ _U Nyalte_ in the north are not so timid as their kin on the plateau. The Pontic Mountains are also rather tempestuous; it is unwise to dig down, so they tend to make these semi-burrows.”

 

“Huh,” Thlayli quirked an ear, “...that’s good to know, I guess.”

 

They rode west for a league until they reached the city of Azdavay. For all that it dominated the valley entrance and controlled river traffic east and west, Azdavay was little more than a trading town. There were no defenses to speak of: no palisade around the community, no keep or stronghold for the citizens to rally to, not even a barracks for local troops. Thlayli and his squad received a number of odd glances as they rode into the main square.

 

A gaunt rabbit in opulent dress came out of the main hall to greet them. “I am Pasalitsu Roouan, appointed regent of Azdavay and cousin of Lord Roouan, Satrap of Kastamone. To what do I owe the, _honor_ , of a visit by riders from Hadrianopolis?”

 

Thlayli could hear Magdalena’s teeth grinding from where he sat, and many of the hares under his command were tensing up. He dismounted and stood before the rail-thin rabbit, making their contrast in size all the more apparent. “We are not here, as you think, from Hadrianopolis.” He pulled out the signet from Lady Uzun and dug deep to sell the narrative. “By order of his Eminence Patriarch Gregory III, a Crusade is called against the forces of Mehmed the Second, called ‘The Conqueror’. We are here from the capitol to scout out the movements of his allies, the Don Cossacks, who are known to have landed in Sinope and are making their way West.”

 

There was a general stir of alarm as Pasalitsu’s ears dropped. “I, I had not heard...” he turned and headed back inside. “I must consult with my cousin.”

 

Once he had gone in, Magdalena sidled her bird up to Thlayli. “You’re stretching a bit on that one.” He noted a satisfied smirk on her muzzle.

 

He stood a little straighter. “Prove anything I said was false.”

 

A few minutes later, Pasalitsu stepped out and released a carrier pigeon. “There, we shall know within a day how ‘dire’ a warning you bring. Now if you will excuse me I have, matters, to attend to. Make yourselves comfortable.” He gestured vaguely about, then headed back inside and closed the door.

 

Thlayli was mounting Nildhristhol when a doe came up to him and tugged gently on his cloak. “My Lord,” Thlayli resisted the urge to grimace at the title, “...is it true, is the Horde coming this way?”

 

Thlayli may have dreamed of being _Owsla_ all his life, but he was still a farmer and knew well the fear these rabbits were feeling. He lay a paw on her shoulder and knelt to eye level. “Yes, I’m afraid it is.” He watched as her fear morphed into sorrow and resignation. “ _Marli_ , what is your name?”

 

“Violeta Olmeath, my Lord.” There was a little more strength in her voice when looking at him.

 

“Well, ‘Violet of the Valley’, what I said is true: all of it. Constantinople is rising to face the Ottoman Turks, and we have allies. I am here to do what I and my _Strutes_ can. I noticed the fields as I rode in. Tell me, how close to harvest are you?”

 

“Very my Lord, but we don’t normally start until the Equinox, and then it will take a fortnight until we are finished and moved into the caverns for threshing.”

 

“And if I could promise 50 more sets of paws and ten ostriches to move the sheaves, how long then?”

 

She pondered for a moment. “Not more than a week, but...”

 

“Good.” Thlayli stood up. “Send word to all the farmsteads to begin readying for the harvest. Anyone too young or too old to help must gather at the cavern Catak Canyon, along with anything you can’t spare. Send a runner when you are ready, and I will send my mammals to aid you. Once everything is ready,we will depart together for Hadrianopolis.”

 

Whether it was the soundness of the plan, or simply that there was one, Violet perked up and beamed in relief. “Yes my Lord! Thank you my Lord! Right away my Lord!”

 

Magdalena rode parallel with Thlayli once they headed back to Catak Canyon. “Well, ‘ _my Lord’;_ it seems you have stirred the breast of at least one rabbit in the valley, or at least some part of her.”

 

Thlayli groaned as the rest of the squad chuckled. “Please don’t mention this to Mora; he seems convinced I have a female of every type in every city from here to Tuz Golu. The last thing I need is him putting ideas in the heads of impressionable does.” He noted the storm clouds to the north, and hoped they wouldn’t hinder the coming harvest.

 

...

 

Gabrieli looked out in frustration at the burnt fields before him. His only hope at this point was that the storm clouds to the north would bring rain and let his Horde glean something usable from the scorched fields. The only positive side to having been sent so early was the prospect of subsisting on the local harvest; this made their own supply woes seem less dire. Now this...

 

“My Lord.” He glanced down as Luka spoke. “We have captured some of the locals; they say that the local Satrap, Roouan, ordered less than a week ago that as much as was ready was to be harvested and taken to the Castle in Kastamone...”

 

“And the rest burned to deny us.” He snorted in resignation. It was a good plan to be sure, save one detail. “Are you sure about the castle?”

 

“Hazim’s Death Worshipers are; they brought a token back from inside.” He held out an engraved cameo depicting two rabbits. Luka shrugged at Gabrieli’s askance look. “Hazim insisted they bring back proof.” They both rolled their eyes. “The tunnels are too small for any but them and the local rabbits, but they have neither cannon nor siege engines.”

 

“Very well. Send for the Goat; have him ready his cannons for a seige. We will take this city, it’s fortress and it’s supplies.” He looked pointedly at the slight wolf. “Impress upon him that the local lord and his loyals will face the Thunder of Gabriel, but there will be no despoiling of the lands or those who work them. Make certain he understands that we need these lands and these people. Failing in that, and it is he that shall know my wrath.”

 

“As you command, my lord.” The wolf bowed and turned to leave.

 

“Also,” Luka paused at Gabrieli’s voice, “... have Baadur take six stallions and a host of 21 Janissaries and scout out Azdavay. He’s been chomping at my flank for some glory or another, and I want no surprises coming in from our rear while we’re occupied in Kastamone.”  

 

Luka gave a curt nod and departed, leaving Gabrieli to ponder the ashen fields. “Such a waste.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thlayli and company settle in to Azdavay and begin preparing the valley and themselves for the coming fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright Disclaimer
> 
> The following is a work of fanfiction: there is no intent of this author to violate, transgress, profit from or infringe upon the Copyright and Intellectual Property (IP) rights of the parent Copyright or IP holders of characters, events or locations belonging to the same which may be contained within this work. To reiterate; this is a Derivative Work meant to be used under Fair Use as described in 17 U.S.C. § 101 and § 107.

Chapter 9

 

The rabbits of Azdavay were initially alarmed when Thlayli arrived with two squads of  _ Strutes  _ and 50 foxes in tow; however with Violeta’s help he managed to convince the local farmers to get to work. Alarm passed to acceptance by midday when the fields nearest the town were reaped and ready to be moved, a task that would normally have taken two days. Thlayli had suggested they work the fields farthest from the cavern, citing they had the greatest distance to go so best to get them done first. Everyone agreed, though most realized the real reason; those were the fields nearest to where the Horde currently was. Those kits too young to reap, but old enough to be trusted on their own followed behind and gathered the gleanings. 

 

The carts which were normally pulled by paw were hooked to one squad of ostriches, and the first loads of bound grain sheaves were taken to Medil Cavern, along with those elderly and young who couldn’t assist in the harvest. Thlayli had the rest of his  _ Strutes  _ either protecting the cavern or the caravan. Ileana’s fastest kin were on the hills overlooking Azdavay; they were to sound the alarm if the Horde approached, and if possible, to harass them with their sling staves until riders came to pull them out. Thlayli knew well from the stories of his people and personal experience how deadly an accurate sling stone could be, even against something the size of a lion.

 

He and the  _ Strutes _ had just returned after taking dinner when Violeta rushed up to him. “My lord, Lord Pasalitsu received a messenger pigeon and has called everyone to the square!” He was intrigued what could have stirred the laconic buck; Pasalitsu had not left his chambers for the last day.

 

Once they arrived, they found Roouan the Lesser speaking to a crowd. “...and so we should, as in all ages, bear this burden with dignity and grace befitting our station in life.”

 

There was a murmur in the crowd until a burly buck fishermam named Stya, though everyone called him Stu, set aside the net he had been mending and stood up. “What dignity and grace is there in giving up our homes to these invaders?” The murmur built in force as many of the crowd nodded. “My family has worked this river valley for a thousand years! I am not giving up my home on a whim!”

 

Thlayli struck the pommel of his spear against a flagstone causing it to ring out, silencing the growing mob. “I would very much like to know what is going on here.”

 

“This does not concern you, Captain.” Pasalitsu raised his muzzle in the air. “We are doing as we must, as we always have, as my cousin Lord Roouan has done.” 

 

“Really? Your people have always openly fomented Treason and Heresy?” There was a general gasp as the  _ Strutes _ began to ready spears. “I know I told you of the decision of both the Diadoch and Patriarch Gregory III; the Empire is at war, and a Holy Crusade has been called against Mehmed and his allies. Let me see this message your cousin has sent; I need to know how far this treason extends.”

 

With a nod from Thlayli, two riders moved up to the frantic rabbit and snatched a small parchment with a broken wax seal. Thlayli scowled when it was given to him. It was all in Greek, but he could make out a few words: ‘Invader’, ‘burn’, ‘retreat’. He turned his scowl on Pasalitsu. He didn’t need to read the message when he saw the fear in the rabbit’s eyes.

 

He handed the note to Magdalena, all the while keeping Pasalitsu fixed with his gaze. She began reading the message aloud, and Thlayli could hear her ire rising with every syllable. “Cousin mine, I regret to inform you that the rumors you ask of are true: a host of invaders is indeed upon us. I have ordered an early harvest, and for all else to be burned, lest it should be used against us. I advise you should do the same, and retreat to the safety of Medil Cavern. There you should be safe until the Horde passes through. May the Grace of God be upon us all, cousin.” At the bottom of the page was a small but intricate wax seal of two rabbits in profile.

 

The crowd’s murmur became a roar of outrage even as the two hares flanking Pasalitsu hoisted him up. Just as Thlayli was about to pass judgement, he heard a peculiar chattering sound echoing down from the hills; the spotters had seen someone coming. He gestured to the terrified rabbit. “Find somewhere to put that coward until I can deal with him properly.  _ Hrayfa, m’daynasitha! _ ” At the order, the riders handed Pasalitsu over to the paws of several liveried rabbits, then formed up and followed Thayli to one of the hills overlooking the town and river. Thlayli dismounted when he arrived at a good spot to observe mammals approaching and looked East. “Report.” 

 

A todd seemed to melt out of the wood much to the alarm of the  _ Strutes. _ “They come, maybe 30. My cousin goes near,” the todd gestured to a nearby pile of leaves from which could be seen a black snout heaving exhausted breaths, “...see two paws heavy horse, all others goat and sheep with bow.” He then pointed to a small group coming up the river bank.

Thlayli saw the group and paused for a moment; the small portion of taller animals were easily three times larger than the rest of the mammals with them, but there were no ostriches so the horses had to move no faster than the smaller caprids with them. He glanced at the river valley and thought to the legends of his people, hoping for some inspiration.

 

Magdalena knelt next to him. “Well, Captain, what would the house of Ephraim have us do?” There was some chiding in her voice, but it did stir a memory.

 

Thlayli grinned. “Not Ephraim; Campion!” He turned to the foxes beside them. “You,” he nodded to the fox in the leaf pile, “...cross over the river and have your kin on the other hill ready their slings.” He then nodded to the fox he had first spoken to. “You send word back to the rest of the  _ Strutes to  _ join us here; tell them it has begun.” The two foxes nodded in response and silently and swiftly disappeared to their tasks.

 

He noted the looks of confusion and anticipation on his squad’s muzzles. He smirked. “Once, so they say, Campion proposed a strategy to Stirathrah, of charging the Hrayfa down a hill to avoid the fire of archers and attack their enemies flanks.” He nodded to the valley below. “We match them for effective numbers, but not effective strength, so...”

 

Magdalena grinned in comprehension. “ _ Nyaltohre Hray _ ! We attack their supporting unit and leave the center alone. When they try to chase us up the other hill...”  

 

Thlayli nodded. “It’s into the teeth of our little  _ vulpi _ siege engines.”

 

In a few minutes, Mahmud’s squad joined Thlayli on the hill. Just as he finished explaining the plan, a short bark was heard from the opposite hill signalling that the slingers were ready. They only had to wait another few more minutes before the small detachment of the Horde was in position. Thlayli mounted up, followed by the rest of the troops. “ _ Hray!” _ The troops began moving down the hill. They were just about to exit the treeline when he barked out again, “ _ Hrarail!” _ With that, the  _ Strutes  _ charged out of the treeline with spears couched as lances. The caprid archers had barely turned to notice what was happening when the troop slammed full speed into them. Only two archers out of 21 survived the lances or the trampling feet that followed. The  _ Strutes  _ didn’t come out unscathed: one of the heavily armed and armored horses turned and struck at a passing trooper with his Shashka sabre, cleaving rider and mount both in two. 

 

The remainder of the  _ Strutes  _ were halfway across the Devrekani River when the Cossacks finally gave chase. The horses were in the ford when Thlayli’s troop reached the tree line on the far bank. Without any orders given, a hail of sling stones sailed over Thlayli’s head and into the onrushing horses. Pained screams could be heard over the braying and splashing. “ _ Sisi!” _ Thlayli’s order caused the surviving  _ Strutes _ to wheel about and charge back towards the Cossacks. They saw that one injured horse was trying to make his way back to the opposite shore, while two others were being carried unresisting down the river. The remaining Cossacks barreled forward, raising their shields which were dented from sling stones, while preparing to strike downward. “ _ Brek!”  _ Thlayli barked out a moment before they collided. The Cossack blades passed harmlessly overhead when the ostriches all grounded at once, while the four horses impaled themselves on 13 lobed spears aimed at their hips. 

 

The weight of their charge carried the Cossacks over the spear formation to collapse on the ground. The  _ Strutes _ turned as one and leapt on the horses backs and began striking them on their heads and necks with mace and sword. They were soon joined by the foxes who stabbed the downed mammals with spears and knives. There was an enraged screech from across the river. Thlayli turned in time to see Violeta lash out at the surviving horse’s legs with a scythe. The felled Cossack was then set upon by a swarm of rabbits armed with farming forks, threshing flails and all manner of knives. Stya’s wife, Banu, was struck in the arm with an arrow fired by one of the two surviving archers. Thlayli gave a sharp whistle to the foxes and pointed at the offending mammals. Four of the foxes broke off from their bloody work and launched stones across the river. A rapid series of sickening crunches signalled the end of the battle.

 

...

 

The rest of the day was spent tending the wounded and caring for the dead. Both the foxes and rabbits were a bit perplexed when Thlayli, Mora and Magdalena all insisted on a funeral service for the fallen Cossacks and Ottoman archers, alongside their own fallen comrade. The  _ Strutes _ , Romani and Azdavay rabbits then all celebrated that evening. One macabre facet of the festivities was the inclusion of the burning of Pasalitsu’s remains. One of the town sentries insisted he had been struck by a stray sling stone, though the stab wound in his back was clear to see.

 

Thlayli sat with what had become his advisory council: Mora, Mahmud, Magdalena, Ileana, Ioan, and now Violeta. They had been discussing the cost of the day. Aside from Sasha straining a muscle from running, and the sizeable divit taken out of Banu’s arm by the Ottoman arrow, the worst had been the loss of Itzak and his mount.

 

“We can cheer about this victory,” Thlayli said while looking at the revelry, “...but we can’t afford any more losses. We’re already outnumbered almost a hundred to one. There will come a point where they realize they can simply overwhelm us.”

 

Violeta glanced sidelong at the contemplative hare. “Begging my Lord’s pardon, but you have all of us as well. We will stand with you to defend our home.”

 

Magdalena rested a paw on the small doe’s shoulder. “And we appreciate that, but you are farmers trying to fight against a seasoned army. The best we can hope for is a delaying action, or to make these Cossacks think a very different force is against them.”

 

Mahmud leaned back and looked to the autumn stars. “We need to know what we’re up against, so we can prepare properly. We can’t fight what we don’t understand.”

 

“Then that’s what I’ll do.” Everyone started slightly at Thlayli’s declaration. “We’re here to scout out the Don Host, so that’s what we’ll do. Mahmud, Mora; you’ll remain here and keep the harvest going. Also see what you can do to fortify Azdavay. This valley could be a fortress, if set up properly. Ileana, Ioan, give aid wherever you best can. Violeta, you know the people and the valley best; help my people be where they can be of the most use. Magdalena, you, me and the rest of the squad will depart before dawn to Kastamone. I will see this Host for myself.” 

 

He stood up. “For tonight though, we honor those we have lost, and we celebrate what we still have.”

 

...

 

Thlayli and his squad departed before dawn and rode through the morning following the Devrekani River onto a wide plateau. Winds from the East carried the smoke of burning fields away from them; vast scorched fields stretched for as far as the hares could see. They kept to the southern ridgeline for another hour before arriving at a pass. A booming sound like distant thunder could be heard from the south. They followed the sound for another hour before barley avoiding a patrol of wolves in foreign armor. By now the thunderous sound had stopped, but the smoke rising from a nearby hill told them all they needed to know: Kastamone had fallen.

 

Thlayli grounded and dismounted the squad. Nodding to one of the troopers, he began removing his armor and weapons. “Everyone rest and eat. I’ll need you to stay with the birds; keep them moving and meet us on the far side of the city at sundown. The rest, break into pairs and scout out the camp and surroundings. Magdalena, you’re with me; we’re going through the city itself. Everyone keep your ears down and look pathetic. We’re already taller than everyone here, let’s not make ourselves more conspicuous.”

 

Once everyone was ready, they headed off in different directions. Thlayli and Magdalena shuffled into the city. As they were approaching, a pair of Ibexes blocked them and began yelling at them in Arabic. Both hares were tensing for a fight when a sudden bark drew their attention. They saw a grey wolf and a massive horse in ornate armor and silver gilded hooves coming towards them. The wolf gently moved the hares aside, though he did pause and scent the air. Their collective attention was drawn when the horse grasped the horn of one of the Ibexes in the split of his hoof and lifted the animal to eye level and began bellowing at him. 

 

“Best you leave.” Thlayli and Magdalena turned to the wolf again. “My lord Gabrieli the Thunderer would not wish for you to see this.” They were ushered inside the wreckage of the city gate. “Enough blood has been shed today.” He nodded to a nearby pike. Thlayli started for a moment as he tried to figure out how the Cossacks had gotten ahold of Pasalitsu’s head. When he turned back, he saw the wolf speaking in low tones to the enraged stallion, who then dropped the Ibex and stormed off, the ground shaking with each hoof step.

 

The two hares slowly made their way through the city, noting the damage done to the fortifications. At one point Magdalena gasped Thlayli by his arm and pulled him into the shadow of a broken wall. “ _Thriskeites Thanatou!”_ She whispered. He looked in the direction she was staring and saw them: seven black-clad mammals walking in perfect step. Even though they were only as tall as Thlayli or Magdalena, the mammals she had called _Il Bralrahai Keharr_ , the Death Worshipers, cast an almost oppressive pall over the ruins around them. Thlayli desperately hoped she was wrong about who they were, though it made a morbid kind of sense they would find refuge amongst the _Fida’im_ after being driven out of Efrafa and Anatolia. The Seven paused for a moment in the street and whispered amongst one another in an Arabic dialect neither Thlayli nor Magdalena understood.  

 

_ “I feel it brothers. Is it time?” _

 

_ “No, but soon. Very soon our vision shall be fulfilled, and we shall be taken up by  _ Keharr _ to join with  _ Inle-ra  _ and  _ Allah.” With that, the seven mammals departed as one.

 

They continued through the ruins of Kastamone, noting everything they could. At one point they came upon a pack of wolves loading bags of grain onto carts. A wolf would give each bag a sniff before the grain was loaded onto one or the other cart. There was also a place near a small Orthodox chapel where the stacked bodies of dead rabbits were being prepared for burial. Thlayli thought to his brother Maythennion’s words on the drove regarding the predestined fate of rabbits. He could not find it in himself to think  _ Frithrah  _ had ordained this massacre for anyone. He noted that it was wolves who were preparing the bodies while sheep and goats stood back sneering in disdain. It was only the presence of two Cossacks nearby that kept the flock from openly jeering.

 

The entire squad reformed at sundown on the far side of the city and gave their reports to Thlayli in turn.

 

Trifylli, the only other jill in the  _ Strutes _ , started off. “We saw their encampment on the West of the city.” She had drawn a crude map of Kastamone in the dirt. “I don’t think this is the entire Host, not that it really matters. They have 30 cannon that I could see: 24 were Falconettes these Cossacks could use as cudgels, but there were six Demi-Culverins each as long as a horse is tall.” She marked a spot near the city wall. “I think they keep the powder here. It is heavily guarded, but only by sheep and goats. Not even the Cossacks nor the wolves with them are allowed near.”

 

Cobanpuskulu was a rather dour jack from just north of Ankyra. “We saw wolves burning great quantities of grain. We spoke to one of the rabbits nearby who said Lord Roouan had ordered that if the city was going to fall, the grain was to be poisoned. Apparently they were halfway done when something snuck through and killed everyone in the grainery, then opened the city gates. The rest of the grain is being kept within the city under guard.” He motioned to a spot in the northeast of the city. “There seems to be some argument among the invaders. The Cossack leader, someone called The Thunderer, wants to split the grain and take only what the army needs to reach its next destination. The Ottoman, a goat named Hazim, feels the people of Byzantium are heretics and deserve to starve.”

 

Trifylli’s brother Peter, who had kept with the birds, pointed to a spot to the southeast. “They are keeping a massive herd of ostriches here. It’s also guarded, but not all that heavily. I was able to get close enough to hear some of the guards talking. They were gambling, I think.”

 

Thlayli’s mind was racing back to the beginning of his journey as Magdalena related their experiences in the city. There was a general alarm when she mentioned the  _ Fida’im _ . She turned and looked to him. “I don’t know how we are supposed to slow this down. If those cannon get to Azdavay then that’s that.”

 

“Then we make sure they don’t leave this city” Thlayli had an almost wicked grin on his muzzle.

 

Peter looked at him as if he were mad. “What, just like that? I know you are  _ Videre _ , but you heard my sister; there’s no way for us to get near those cannon.”

 

Thlayli chuckled. “Oh, I heard your sister. I also heard you; the ostriches they need to move those cannon are not nearly so well guarded.”

 

Magdalena looked at Thlayli with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation. “What are you thinking,  _ My Lord _ ?”

 

“Something that would likely get me disowned if my kin were to hear me suggest it.” He stood up and looked to where the Ottoman ostriches were being kept. “We’re going to rustle their herd.”

 

...

 

Thlayli sat on a grounded Nildhristhol with his sling readied; a tightly packed clod of mud, herbs and ostrich dung was nestled inside. The rest of his troop was waiting in the forest nearby. When the guards were turned away for a moment, he slung his impromptu stink-bomb into the fire they were gathered near. In moments, a cloud of rancid fumes caused the gathered caprids to all recoil. While they were coughing, he spurred his bird forward and silently leapt into the paddock. It was the work of mere minutes to find the herd’s alpha, and only a few more to assert his dominance. 

 

The guards had only just gotten themselves sorted out when one of the ostriches boomed. Without any further warning, the entire herd of 400 birds panicked and crashed through the paddock. Though the commotion drew many mammals attention, no one was willing to get in the way of the stampede. No one noticed the half dozen additional birds join the herd. Hazim came out of his tent just in time to helplessly watch as the entire mass of draft animals ran north at a full gallop.

 

While Thlayli knew it was possible for the herd to make the 10 league journey to Azdavay at a run, he didn’t want to risk killing the birds; they would be needed to help evacuate Azdavay when the time came. Once they had reached the Devrekim River he slowed the herd to a fast walk and turned east to return to Azdavay with his prize.

 

...

 

Gabrielli and Hazim stood looking out over the scorched fields where the birds had run the night before. The seven  _ Fida’im _ stood behind them, excitedly whispering to one another. Luka and a team of his best trackers were vainly hoping to find some scent trace in the ashen wastes.

 

“This is a disgrace!” Hazim railed then turned to Gabrielli. “How exactly do you lose a herd of 400 ostriches?”

 

He didn’t even see Gabrielli’s hoof lash out when he found himself suspended almost 15 feet off the ground. Gabrielli glared at the small caprid. “Your cannon, your wagons, your herd, your guards, YOUR FAULT!” His bellow echoed over the barren landscape as he dropped Hazim and looked out. “This entire mission has been one debacle after another. If Luka can find no intelligence of the herd’s location, then I am gathering my host and returning to Sinope to wait out the winter. If the fleet is not repaired by spring we will march again. Perhaps the very land will no longer be in revolt by then.”

 

Hazim sputtered. “You can’t! The cannons...”

 

“You may pull them yourself if you like, but I will risk no more of my people on this fool’s errand.” He paused when Luka rushed up to him. “Speak, old friend.”

 

“My Lord, you must come to the river.” When the three arrived, they found the rest of the pack had pulled the body of a Cossack up onto the bank. 

 

Hazim gagged in disgust as Gabrielli knelt beside the battered body and rolled it over. “What was one of your Host doing in this valley?”

 

“Baadur was not in this valley,” Gabrielli pried out a bloody stone that had been embedded in the horse’s heavy armor, “...he was sent to Azdavay.” He stood and looked to the northwest. “I think I know where your herd has gone, Master of Tocpu.” He turned to the gathered mammals. “Luka, take your pack and follow the river to Azdavay. Take the  _ Hashishim _ with you; they were most effective in breaching Kastamone and taking Roouan’s head, they shall serve you equally well here.”

  
Hazim was about to object when the lead  _ Fida'i _ stepped forward. “It is as  _ Allah _ and his angel  _ Inle-rah _ has foretold.” The mammals all as one pulled back the hoods of their cloaks revealing seven pitch black golden eyed hares. “We shall rejoice, for our vision is fulfilled in the lands of our ancestors!”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thlayli is confronted with the true burden of war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright Disclaimer
> 
> The following is a work of fanfiction: there is no intent of this author to violate, transgress, profit from or infringe upon the Copyright and Intellectual Property (IP) rights of the parent Copyright or IP holders of characters, events or locations belonging to the same which may be contained within this work. To reiterate; this is a Derivative Work meant to be used under Fair Use as described in 17 U.S.C. § 101 and § 107.

Thlayli and his squad were bone weary when they finally returned to Azdavay at dawn. They were astounded at what they found; the southern river access was flanked by a pair of simple watch towers from which mammals called their arrival, while the eastern valley approach had a wood and earthwork palisade, mammed by a mixture of town watch rabbits and  _ Vulpi _ .

 

Mora rode up to Thlayli with a grin and a whistle. “And here I was hoping to impress you with our industriousness in your absence.”

 

“And I would be if I wasn’t so tired.” He blinked owlishly at the surrounding fields. “Did we get any harvesting done?”

 

They began riding towards Medil Cavern. “About as much as the day before. Turns out about a hundred of these rabbits served as engineers in the local  _ Themata _ . They directed the whole valley and made rather short work of the new defenses here and at the canyon mouth. With this glorious herd though, I think we might be able to clear the fields in only a couple of more days. Speaking of which,” He whistled and waved over more of his squad. “Let’s get these birds rested so they can get to work themselves. Where are we going to keep them?” He looked around the valley in thought.

 

Thlayli shook his head slightly to wake up. “Keep them in the cleared fields; they should be fine there as long as you keep this one,” he nodded to the alpha, “...in check. Push comes to shove, we’ll hide them in the canyon.”

 

Mora saluted and his squad led the herd to the fields nearest the town. Thayli and his squad continued to the cavern. There was indeed a second earthwork and wood palisade at the canyon entrance, with watchtowers and a gate. He thought he saw wooden towers on the ridge similar to the fire watch towers in his home of Goreme. All this would have to wait though, as he was fast asleep as soon as he lay on his pallet.

 

He was awakened by the smell of dinner which turned out to be a rye pottage cooked in fish broth, with course rye bread and smoked river trout and a cup of local mint and strawberry  _ Kvass _ . Once rested and refreshed, he rode out into the valley to see what had been accomplished in his absence. The first thing he noticed was the now near constant stream of grain sheave laden ostriches moving to and fro. Elderly rabbits were often found walking beside or riding the docile birds, freeing up the able bodies for the harvest or the watch.

 

Azdavay itself was changed by the defenses. The earthen berm stood almost twice as tall as Thlayli, with rugged split trees bracing it on the town side. It had a walkway with a raised wall of its own. There were also a number of crude squat towers atop which stood sling-stave armed  _ Vulpi _ . What was noticeably absent was the town hall, though he did see the buildings front doors being used as the town-side gate. He imagined if he looked close enough he would find other parts of that building making up the new fortifications.

 

When he exited the L-shaped passage through the wall, he saw a ditch at the base of the berm, both of which were filled with spikes carved from green wood branches. The only weak point he could think to see in the whole affair was where the berm met the river; and even there, towers overlooked the approach. Looking out over now forest free approach, he saw hundreds of small holes that looked to be just wide enough for a Cossack hoof to fit inside. Getting close, he noted a wooden spike at the bottom. A cleared winding path made its way to the town.

 

He returned to the town to find Violeta beaming in pride. “I hope this meets with my Lordship’s approval.”

 

He dismounted next to the open foundations of the old town building. “They exceeded my wildest expectations. That your people did this in a day is astounding.”

 

“Nonsense my Lord.” Violeta looked around. “We had all this finished by dinner yesterday, then it was back to the fields.”

 

Thlayli shook his head. This ‘Thunderer’ was certainly in for a surprise when he finally got here.

 

...

 

Luka and his pack were lucky the wind was carried south through the river valley, else they might have run afoul of the foxes that seemed to infest these hills. He and his pack, as well as the  _ Fida’im _ , had made it to the mouth of the river gorge that led into Azdavay. Of note to him was the impassable nature of this route for his Lord or the Tocpu, though small scouting forces on paw like his own could just manage. They decided to rest just past a river bend that would keep them concealed from the rabbit mammed watchtowers at the valley entrance until after dusk. 

 

With the sun having set and clouds hiding the moon, they quietly made their way along the river into the valley. One of the first, and most surprising things of note was a series of 28 cairns, five of which were just large enough to contain a horse. On top of each were the weapons and armor of the mammals they contained.

 

“Though they rejected our ways,” Luka resisted the urge to yelp as one of the  _ Fida’i  _ spoke next to him, “...even our wayward kin venerate death. You may tell your Lord that his kin are safely cared for. This is where we part; our Lord  _ Inle-rah  _ awaits us, as your Lord Gabrielli awaits you. May  _ Keharr’s  _ wings carry you to  _ Allah’s  _ most beneficent grace.” With that, the seven disappeared into the valley leading west.

 

Luka considered following them until a breeze from the east carried the scent of ostriches. He knew his duty to his lord and followed his nose. He came to a town with a simple but effective looking wall to the east. Just to the north was a recently cleared field where he found the whole of Hazim’s herd milling about.

 

He was smiling at his good fortune when the wind shifted. It carried with it a new scent, that of jackals and hares. It also carried his own scent to the recumbent herd, who began shifting and hissing. He and his pack swiftly made their way into the town and hid in an open stone lined pit. Everywhere about them was the scent of freshly turned earth and green sap-wood. Once he was certain the patrol was not heading into town or calling the alarm, he and his pack silently made their way into the river and back the way they came. He had much to report

 

...

 

Thlayli looked out over the valley. The wave of thunder and song crashed into the town. It rolled back and crashed again and again until the town was no more. With each crash was heard a thunderous whisper, and rabbits popped their heads from their holes, only to duck down again. As the wave advanced, it slowed and shrank as it passed over the rabbit holes until it crested over him, still thunderously whispering: 

_ Allahu Akbar _

_ Allahu Akbar _

 

Thlayli’s eyes snapped open to find a strange black hare standing over him with a raised bloody knife repeatedly whispering, “ _ Allahu Akbar!” _

 

Thlayli swiftly bunched his legs up and kicked the hare in the gut. The stranger was launched across the small chamber and slammed into the wall. Thlayli jumped out of bed and hammered his foot into the floor. “Alarm!” He then rushed forward and snatched up the knife the black hare had dropped and buried it in the would-be assassin’s chest. The air rushed out of the mammal in a wheeze. Thlayli nearly retched at the beatific expression on his face as he died. 

 

The growing sound of commotion snapped Thlayli back to the here and now. He retrieved his sword and moved into the main cavern. Mahmud had one black hare impaled on one of his horns, though a dagger protruded from the goat’s upper back. A dull thud and crack sounded as Magdalena dispassionately slew a black hare with her mace. Several other  _ Strutes _ came out of their alcoves in breechcloths and weapons. Commotion from further down led them to the chambers where the foxes slept as a black hare stepped out, his blade dripping on the floor. He laughed almost maniacally as he launched himself at Thlayli. The Efrafan tackled his foe with his sword braced across his chest. When their bodies met, he twisted his hips sharply with his sword blade against the black hare’s belly. There was a gasp of almost ecstasy from his opponent as he collapsed on the ground in a bloody pile.

 

There was a shriek from the area where the young and old rabbits slept, as well as a strange guttural sound and a thumping coming from one of the other fox alcoves. Thlayli sent the rest of the  _ Strutes  _ to clear the remainder of the caverns and to raise the general alarm. He and Magdalena turned to the alcove and threw back the entrance cover. They saw Ioan kneeling on top of a black hare repeatedly slamming a knife hilt into its chest, the blade long since having broken off. His inarticulate snarling degenerated into a keening wail that was taken up by every fox in the cavern. On a pallet in the back of the alcove, Ileana lay unmoving.

 

...

 

Mora stood back, having just reported the presence of wolves in the valley as Magdalena spoke up. “Paulus from our squad, as well as Izmir and Adam from Mahmud’s.” Magdalena stood slightly back from Thlayli as she detailed what she had found of their losses. “The blade is stuck in the bone on his back, and no one wants to try to remove it lest it break something, so Mahmud can’t ride himself.”

 

Thlayli looked out over the gorge that Medil Cavern sat on. “We’ll reinforce Mora’s and my squads as two of eight each. What of the Romani and the Azdavayans?” His voice was almost brittle with pain. 

 

“A dozen more besides Ileana. For the rabbits, an old dam who shielded a kit with her body. Also, Styra was visiting his wife while she recovered here. I don’t think either one woke.” She rested a paw on his shoulder. “This is war, Thlayli. There are worse ways to go.”  

 

His bones audibly creaked as he clenched his fists. “Worse than being murdered in your sleep by a nightmare from our past?”

 

The jills response was cut off as Peter exited the cavern. “Captain, that’s the last of them.” He gestured to the corpses of the seven Death Worshipers. “How should we dispose of them, sir?”

 

“How?” Thlayli walked over to the first of the bodies, whose chest was caved in with part of a dagger blade sticking out. He hoisted it up. “They worship and venerate  _ Keharr _ , so we give them,” he turned to the gorge and hurled the body over, “what They WANT!” One after another he tossed the black hares into the abyss below. When there were no more he simply shrieked in rage, his anguish echoing through the canyon and collapsed to his knees. Magdalena shooed the rest of the  _ Strutes _ off, then sat next to him. 

 

He drew breath after gasping breath. “This is my fault. My pride bore this evil upon us. Your mother told me to heed my dream, and my dream said if we went to meet the thunder, we would lose.” He sagged into himself. “Who was I trying to fool, playing at  _ Owsla _ ? I’m a farmer, less than these here; at least they recognize their place, but I had to have my thrice damned adventure and now look at what has come of it?!” He snarled as he swept a paw back towards the cavern.

 

“Being useless.” He jerked at Magdalena’s odd statement. “You asked if there was a worse way to die; I think living a safe, meaningless life and passing into God’s heaven having done nothing of note or worth is a worse fate; and it was my fate, until one crazy-eyed ostrich herder charged into my home and gave me the chance to be more!” He noted the ferocity in her eyes. “More than my Aunt Bythia would have of me, more than imperial society would allow of the only daughter of the House of Uzun. If I had died tonight, it still would have been better than what fate had allotted me; and if I die in the coming days, it will be in the knowledge that for this moment, I was useful.” 

 

She turned to him and gripped his shoulder. “So don’t tell me how you have failed to interpret the dream and we are suffering for it. War costs lives, and by coming out here we were coming to meet the Thunderer. Tell me how we are going to face him when he arrives? Because you know those wolves will report back what they have seen.”

 

Thlayli pinched his eyes closed and breathed deep of the crisp autumn night air. “The palisade in town will only hold them for so long. The Cossacks could simply carry troops on their shoulders and deposit them on the other side if they can get close enough, so we need to be prepared to abandon the city and retreat here.” He sat upright and glanced towards the valley. “The rabbits are the key to a real, meaningful victory, so we keep them doing what they have been; without the harvest these people have nothing, but neither do the Cossacks. Deny them that, and anything they do here will be an empty gesture.”

 

He thought of everything they had seen in Kastamone. “There is a schism in their army: the Cossacks, and the Ottomans. We need to exploit that; target one in favor of the other, and I can tell you which I’d rather deal with directly.” He gave a weak smirk when she snorted. “You have studied tactics and strategy; what is our weak link, and how do we turn it to our advantage?”

 

She thought for a second. “I would say the southern river pass, but we just came from there; we barely got the herd through, so I doubt the Horde will come that way. No, it’s the south bank of the river: we can’t effectively defend that ridge and it overlooks the entire valley.”

 

“You think the Cossacks will try to take the ridge?”

 

She shook her head. “No, it’s a better vantage for archers and artillery; or at least it would be if it was cleared. I was talking with Violeta earlier today. She said they’ve tried working that hillside in past years, but the ground is too loose. The trees are the only thing that keeps the entire hill from sliding into the river.”

 

Thlayli’s mind flashed to the dream: the wave slowing and shrinking as it fell into rabbit holes. “Then we clear the hill.”

 

Magdalena gawked at him. “What, and beg them to put their archers overlooking the town?”

 

He nodded. “Yes; if the hillside is as unstable as Violeta says, then triggering a landslide should be as easy as playing Bob-stones. As for the Cossacks, the spike pits on the western approach are good, but we need something that will thin their numbers, not just make them move slower.” He stood up. “Move the herd into the canyon, then we’ll have every able digger that isn’t harvesting, tunnel under the fields. You felt it when that Gabrielli was walking around, everything shook. If they are all even half that heavy hoofed, then they are all but guaranteed to breakthrough into  _ Hlien _ . That will slow them down and take them off the field. We buy this valley the time they need to get the harvest ready to move, and make the Horde pay for every stride they take.

 

“But first,” he turned to the caverns and the sounds of weeping coming from within, “...we tend to our fallen, and those left behind.”

 

They were brought up short by a rush near the gate to the canyon. A small skulk of foxes dragged someone along with them. “Will you kindly un-paw me you brutes? I’m here with a, ah! Lady Uzun, Captain Thlayli; could please inform your furry companions to kindly cease their mammal-handling of me?” 

 

Magdalena boggled slightly. “Hlao, what in God’s holy name are you doing here?!” The skulk released him at a gesture from Thlayli. 

 

The disheveled hare straightened his tunic and harrumphed. “Well, I was sent by your aunt to let you know that Edirne is under siege.” 

 

Thlayli quirked an eye at him. “Wasn’t that the point?”

 

“Oh I don’t mean by Constantinople, I mean the  _ Voivode’s _ forces were already besieging the city when we arrived.”  Everyone stared at Hlao for a moment. “I know, but it seems everybody underestimated Vlad’s ire. He apparently dispatched an entire Legion of Bear and Red Deer Cataphracts and Teutonic Artillery against Mehmed as soon as Ileana gave her report.” He noted the bitter pause at that but chose not to press. “The Diadoch’s forces were barely able to arrive in time to backstop the city and prevent Mehmed from fleeing into the countryside. As I understand it, he fled by ship to Sinope only a few days ago.”.”

 

...

 

Luka and his pack didn’t make it back to the camp at Kastamone until midday after their excursion; they had stopped to rest after a league, rather than stumble through the river gorge in the dark. Once there, he went directly to Gabrielli and relayed all he had seen. Hazim was there as well. “You are certain of this? And what of my guards?!” The goat paced nervously in the yurt.

 

“You know as well as we do that they are dead. As for Luka’s findings, he would not have said as much if it were not so, now stop speaking.” Gabrielli’s voice was without heat or respect as the goat blanched. “What else besides the herd.”

 

“The valley stretches for a league one way and half that across; it is all rye, already being harvested. There are also new fortifications on the western approach, as well as watchtowers over the river to the south. How our thieves managed to move the herd through there is a mystery, but I would not recommend taking troops through that pass.”

 

“Noted. And these new walls?”

 

“I could not see the other side, though I am slightly shorter than the tallest part. They are earthenworks with greencut wood.”

 

Hazim scoffed. “My Falconettes should make short work of those defenses, IF you can get them there, Lord Gabrielli.”

 

The stallion waved a hoof dismissively. “I have some young colts that need to learn humility; acting as beasts of burden for your Tocpu will do nicely.”

 

“Hmph!” Hazim crossed his hooves behind his back. “Given what your dog has said,” he did his best not to bleat in alarm at the murderous glare Gabrielli sent his way, “...I fail to see why you insist on taking the Tocpu and Janissaries along for this at all.”

 

Gabrielli leaned over his small table to loom over Hazim. “I insist because they know what is coming for them, have made preparations to defend themselves against us, and have already both defeated our soldiers once and penetrated  _ your _ camp.” Hazim did bleat at the reference to his loss of the herd. “I am not a foolish foal like Mehmed to be startled into action before I am ready. We will meet this foe with all the fury and thunder at our disposal and make certain our victory.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thlayli, Ioan, the Strutes and Azdavay mourn their loss even as they prepare for the inevitable attack by the Don Cossacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright Disclaimer
> 
> The following is a work of fanfiction: there is no intent of this author to violate, transgress, profit from or infringe upon the Copyright and Intellectual Property (IP) rights of the parent Copyright or IP holders of characters, events or locations belonging to the same which may be contained within this work. To reiterate; this is a Derivative Work meant to be used under Fair Use as described in 17 U.S.C. § 101 and § 107.

Ioan paused in his grief to look at Thlayli. “Why do you ask this? Her life story?”

 

Thayli did his best to not flinch from the gaze of the fox whom felt he had failed so completely. Never had he personally lost anyone so important to him as Ileana had been to Ioan and her children. _U Inle-Methrah_ , the traditional Efrafan lament for the departed was all he could offer to Ioan and the other survivors. “It is my people’s way, to sing the life of the dead that _Inle-rah_ may know their worth when he comes for them. With the Death Worshipers so near by, _Keharr_ is soon to come for his due, and I would not have her spirit taken by mistake.”

 

Ioan looked thoughtful for a moment, then began telling Ileana’s life; he told of her cunning, grace and beauty which entranced Ioan as a young tod. He spoke of the trials of trying to convince her parents to allow them to marry. He spoke of her patience and the iron of her spirit as a mother of their two children. Then he told of the _Voivode’s_ call for a spy to travel to the Kingdom of Georgia to chase a rumor.

 

“She did not hesitate. She said to me, ‘Who would I ask to go in my stead because I am too afraid?’ She was always fierce in life. I was certain I would never see her again. For a year I grieved, until one day she came into our camp and in that moment she was more beautiful than I had ever seen her. She told of the secret she had found; of Mehmed’s deal with the Cossacks and his fleet, of how she was hunted, and then saved by you and your kin. She spoke of your kindness to a stranger. She convinced our entire sept to come to this land that we might have a new life away from old prejudices, old hatreds.”

 

The tod leaned back against the cave wall. “I spoke true in our camp in the forest; you returned unto us who we thought dead. You sent my beloved back to me, no matter how short the time may be until my dying breath I will bless your name for that.” He paused to wipe his eyes. “And so we came, through storm and war to give our children that chance. I will grieve, that I should never see her smile again nor hear her laughter, and that our children must go on without her but such is the way of war. She would say now, that it is better she should pay this price than another; that her life was full and rich and worthy of song.”

 

Thlayli wept in that moment for the friend whom he had lost, for the husband and children left behind, but he found much of his bitterness had passed. For all it’s tragedy Ileana had not, as Magdalena would have feared, died a useless death. Thlayli wept with Ioan and shared in the privilege at having known Ileana for even a short time. He bid the grieving fox good night and continued to the next alcove; there were more than a dozen more stories to hear before he could properly compose _U Inle-Methrah_.

 

...

 

Thlayli was shocked at how many rabbits joined in _U Inle-Methrah_. Mora gave a sad smile as the last stone was placed on Styra and Banu’s cairn. “We took our traditions with us when we fled Efrafa, and we brought them with us when we spread through Europa. The Small Folk adopted our ways even as we adopted their people.”

 

Though he wished it were otherwise, Thlayli knew the Cossacks would be coming. Mora’s jackals had tracked the movements of the wolves out of the river, into Azdavay and back into the river again so there was no doubt that they would know the location of the herd and the state of the harvest. He waved Ioan and Violeta over. “We stick to the plan, but we have scouts outside the city: a proper Wide Patrol on the western road, and _Vulpi_ on the ridge overlooking the southern river pass.

 

“Violeta, have the engineers clear a portion of the hill on the southern bank of the river overlooking the city; make it look like we are trying to fortify it. Once they have it half-way believable, undermine the earth above so we can bring the mountain down on anyone foolish enough to try to go there. Everyone else is either harvesting, or burrowing under the fields. Make sure the burrowers know these are traps for the Cossacks, not _Hlien_ to fall back to.”  He looked at each animal in turn. “We have mere days until this ‘Thunderer’ comes crashing down on us, and he’s going to want two things: the harvest and the Flock. If we can deny him these things, then we will have won.” Mora, Ioan and Violeta all nodded curtly and ran to relay their orders.

Once this was done he sought out Hloa, who had been given command of the ‘Great Flock’.

 

He found him pensively standing by Ileana’s cairn. “I did not know her well,” the diminutive hare commented at Thlayli’s approach, “...and now that seems such a tragedy since I will never get the chance.”

 

“Well, we’re all a part of her story now.” Thlayli rested a paw on Hlao’s shoulder. “I need your eye for bird flesh.” He noted the smaller jack’s incredulous look. “I’ll be too busy to do this myself. I need you to pick out the 100 birds we don’t need.”

 

Hloa quirked his ears. “I’m inclined to say we need them all, but okay.”

 

“Good.” Thlayli nodded. “When the time comes, I intend to give these invaders some of their birds back.” Thlayli continued even as Hlao balked. “We don’t have much in the way of artillery, so a stampede is about the most powerful attack we can field. It won’t do much to the Cossacks, but they don’t seem to be the ones mamming the cannons.”

 

Hlao’s demeanor changed as a vicious grin took his features. “I think I can find just the birds for the task.”

 

...

 

Gabrielli had to give grudging respect where it was due; Hazim knew his artillery. Gabrielli had almost expected to have the various porters carrying the cannons and equipment on their backs, but the caissons for the 10 Falconettes were swiftly and efficiently modified to let his horses pull them and their bombard shields. This did not lessen the overall burden, as more than 30 carriages of powder and stone cannon balls and shot were also needed, to say nothing of the livery wagons which also had to be pulled from Kastamone to Azdavay. He had already needed to discipline one of his own for striking one of the Tocpu; the goat had derisively mocked him as a ‘mule’. That Tocpu himself was now with Allah.

 

He wondered once again at the wisdom of the tribal chiefs in allying themselves with Mehmed. The Mouflon was quite charismatic, as well as being a cunning tactician given his victories to date. Still, he was quite young and prone to the brashness of youth. The current turn of events was evidence enough when he had ordered the incomplete fleet to launch without explanation. Gabrielli had been paying for that decision ever since. Now he watched his mighty Host prepare to march; their hips and backs jutting alarmingly from their thinning coats. If they did not secure their prize in Azdavay, he may very well have to make good on his threat to Hazim and return to Sinope in shame.

 

A gentle tug at his forelimb signalled that Luka was finished applying his armor, and all that was left was the great Horned helm that marked him Kirin: a General of the Don Cossack Horde. Soon they would embark on the four day march to Azdavay and either seize their destiny, or accept their fate.

 

“Luka, once you are finished I want you to rest, then take your pack back to Azdavay by the path  you first used.” He paused and noted the uncertainty in his retainer’s eyes, though the loyalty never wavered. “I know these mammals are unlikely to leave the area unguarded, and I am counting on that. Run them a merry chase, keep them occupied and learn all you can. In two days time, meet me at the western edge of the grey-stone ridge to the north. I refuse to march blindly into a valley that has so vexed me to date.”  

 

Luka nodded and wordlessly departed. Outside Gabrielli’s Yurt, Hazim could be heard bleating at someone. The stallion could not wait for this ‘adventure’ to be through, so that he could return to the steppes where he belonged.

 

...

 

Thlayli had just returned from his first wide patrol when he heard the howling of wolves, followed quickly by the shrill cry of foxes. Mora paused on his way to begin his wide patrol. “That started last night. The engineering teams on the hill are spooked, and rightly so. Ioan has had every fox he can spare up there keeping them away from the north face.”

 

Thlayli glanced at the half cleared mountainside. Felled trees had their branches stripped and were stacked in lines 50 paces up from the base as if waiting to be used. “Not much else we can do about that, though it hasn’t seemed to slow the Small Folk down any. How far along are we?”

 

Mora scratched his chin. “Sundown tomorrow at the latest, then the diggers can start readying the _nao-hlien_ traps for when they breach the valley. The old dames and bucks have lit fires at the caverns to dry out the sheaves so they can start threshing early. Are you sure this will work?” There was no doubt in his voice, only curiosity.

 

“To stop them, no. It should slow them down though.” Thlayli shifted in his saddle while looking over the valley. “It should slow them down. At the rate these farmers work, we may only need four more days till we can move everyone and the harvest. When that happens, the Cossacks can have this valley; we’ll have won.” Both hares gave a firm smile at that and rode on.

 

...

 

Luka considered what his pack mates had said of their day’s harassment: The fields were almost fully harvested, and the hill on the south bank of the river was being cleared of trees, and it looked like tunnels were being dug. “And what of the foxes?”

 

“Some with spears, some with bow and arrow.” His cousin flicked one of his ears and winced at the new notch in it. “They are rotating teams, more than we have here but not as many as we first feared. If we had all the runners, I think we could have taken the hill.”

 

Luka glared at the hill in question. Something about all this felt wrong, though he wasn’t sure what. He would tell his lord Gabrielli when they met up. “Have your brother take up your duties, then rest up. We run to rejoin the Host at moonrise.” Thunder rumbled from the distance. “Well, when moonrise would be.”

 

...

 

Thlayli was stolen from a sound sleep when Magdalena threw the curtain to his alcove open. “Mora’s wide patrol is back!” He didn’t bother asking rhetorical questions; Mora wouldn't have returned early unless he had encountered something. He threw on a tunic and headed into the main chamber where rabbits of all ages were threshing the rye stalks, while fires near the entrance dried the last rushes and kept the early autumn rain storm at bay.

 

Mora and his patrol were drying their gear near one of the fires. “We crossed the trail of a pack of wolves running east. Salim says it’s the same ones from the Night of the Blades.” Everyone shivered at the memory. “We tracked them through the next valley when we saw an encampment at least a thousand strong, along with maybe ten of the smaller cannon you observed outside Kastamone. They are maybe a day’s march from here.”

 

Thlayli looked to Violeta who had come over to the commotion. She hugged herself in fear. “We’re not ready! We’ll need two more days at least to finish threshing!”

 

“Then we’ll give you two more days. Are the engineers finished on the hill?” The flustered doe nodded. He smiled and pointed to the storm outside. “Good. Once this lets up, I’ll need every able digger who isn’t pulling in the last of the harvest to begin the valley traps; start near the town and work your way west to the canyon. Pyotr,” Thlayli indicated one of the young tods, “... signal Ioan to return and rest. We have one more day before the Horde gets here, let’s make the most of it.”

 

...

 

Gabrielli knelt on the floor of his Yurt with a large map of the region spread out before him. Hazim stood nearby as Luka finished describing what he had seen. “You’re sure about the ostrich cavalry? Not just farmers riding the captured birds?”

 

“No my lord; those who tracked us were hares and jackals, not rabbits. They also moved as a trained, if not seasoned, unit.”

 

Hazim snorted. “What does it matter if they have these, ‘Strutes’. They are but hares and dog strutting around on livestock.”

 

Gabrielli didn’t bother to look up from the map. “And yet it is one of those strutting hares, this ‘Rautha the Sorcerer’, who had confounded your Sultan Mehmed to the point that he was forced  to forge an alliance with my people. You say they are clearing this hill? What of the north side of the valley?” He indicated a ridge overlooking the river at the south of the valley.

 

Hazim all but bounced on his hooves. “That would be the perfect place for My Tocpu and Janissaries: the high vantage will extend their range, and the river blocks any swift reprisal. You must seize this hill first!”

 

Gabrielli disliked the tone,but could not argue the strategic value of the ridge. He noted the pensive set of Luka’s tail. “You have a doubt, old friend?”

 

The wolf nodded while Hazim huffed in annoyance. “When we traveled there before, the hill was untouched. From what I and my pack saw, they have left the north of the valley untouched and wooded. This,” he motioned to the hill along the river’s southern bank, “...is very new and I feel uneasy about it. The foxes were quite determined to keep us from coming near, but not so much so that we could not see what was being done.”

 

Gabrielli winnied softly and shook his head. “Uneasy or not, we cannot ignore this.” He held up a hoof to forestall Hazim from gloating. “We will wait until we are on the field and can assess the ground, then decide how to deploy. We cannot afford to waste time sending soldiers on missions that ultimately serve little purpose.” He stood and looked at the two smaller mammals. “Rest your mammals. We move out at dawn.”

 

...

 

The sun had only just broken through the clouds in time to set when Mora’s squad came riding in at a gallop. Mora dismounted and ran up to Thlayli. “They’re just the other side of those hills! 100 heavy Horse, at least as many wolves, and four times as many archers. All the rest are with the cannon or the supply carts. They are making their camp in the valley against that ridge.” He pointed to the rocky ridge to the west of Azdavay.

 

Thlayli nodded. “Ioan!” He called the red fox leader of the Romani over. “It’s beginning; have your archers and 20 spears sent to the trapped hill. Make the Cossacks pay for every inch they take, but don’t sell your lives in the process. Send ten spears into the hills to the north and be ready to harass anyone who comes into range. The rest will be here. You are sure about the range?”

 

The tod nodded. “We threw a few test stones when the engineers were first laying out the palisade and defenses; we can put a stone another 50 paces beyond where the spike-holes stop.”

 

“Good. Violeta, tell your people who are not a part of the defenses to head back to the canyon and begin preparing everything to move. The hill and valley are ready?”

 

“Yes my Lord.” The doe nodded and gripped her scythe. It had recently been altered so the blade pointed straight from the haft, while a sickle was tucked into her belt. “At your signal, the sappers will collapse tunnels in the ridge above the clearing. They have assured me it will collapse the entire face of the hill. The valley,” she paused and looked pensively at the cleared fields, “... we only could dig so many, and the rains have partially flooded some of the warrens.”

  
Thlayli rested a paw on her shoulder. “It is enough that there are some. Hlao,” the small jack stood nervously at his name, “...take your _hrair_ into the hills above the city; when they break through, wait for my signal, or when they have moved into that field.” He pointed to the field they had been using to paddock the herd. “If I haven’t signaled by sundown on that day, stampede through their camp, then make haste to the canyon.” He looked to the west where his enemy made camp, their fire light reflecting out of the valley while foreign songs echoed through the night.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The climactic confrontation between Thlayli and Gabrielli begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright Disclaimer
> 
> The following is a work of fanfiction: there is no intent of this author to violate, transgress, profit from or infringe upon the Copyright and Intellectual Property (IP) rights of the parent Copyright or IP holders of characters, events or locations belonging to the same which may be contained within this work. To reiterate; this is a Derivative Work meant to be used under Fair Use as described in 17 U.S.C. § 101 and § 107.

The Horde was stirring in preparation even though the sun was yet to crest over the hills. Luka had just finished securing the wooden-soled sabatons onto Gabrielli when an alarm howl rang out from the eastern side of the camp. A few minutes later a runner arrived. The young wolf had clearly run through the night and was too winded to speak, so he simply handed a parchment to the Horse Lord. After directing the lupine to take water, Gabrielli unrolled the paper. He immediately scowled at what he read.

 

“My Lord?” Luka looked on in concern.

 

Gabrielli looked to the new arrival. “Take your rest in the camp; you will be joining us here. Luka,” his faithful wolf stood straight, “... Have one of our runners return to Kastamone and inform Grigor to begin striking the camp. If we have not returned in seven days, or if this sorcerer, this Rautha and his attendant lion and bear host arrive before we do,” he brandished the missive in his hoof, “... they are to depart forthwith and return to Sinope with, or without, the Sultans damnable artillery. Once that is done, take a pack and scout out this southern hill; I don’t trust it, but I can’t ignore it’s potential either.”

 

Gabrielli called to Luka as the wolf turned to carry out his orders. “Luka, no word to Hazim. He is beside himself over the absence of his precious guards; I do not need him further distracted by the reality of losing his cannon if we don’t return with the herd.” Luka nodded and helped the other wolf depart the Yurt. Gabrielli settled onto his cot once he was alone again. He sighed as he looked at the report in his hoof. It detailed how scouts had sighted a substantial host from central Anatolia approaching Kastamone from the southeast. It was led by a Vanguard of Hares on ostriches. Win or lose, he would need to depart this valley in three days lest he be cut off from retreat by these Efrafans.

 

...

 

Thlayli walked towards the eastern ramparts of Azdavay with Magdalena and Ioan. His sleep had been startlingly devoid of dreams and he woke with a strange calm. He wondered if that meant there was no more to be seen, only done?

 

He heard a gekkering call from the southern hill. Ioan nodded when the young Efrafan looked to him. “Their probing force has been sighted. We will delay them to give the sappers time to get in position, then fall back with the rest of the engineers.”

 

Thlayli closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “Alright. And the archers?”

 

“A pawful here in the towers, the rest are in the woods along the northern ridgeline, along with half the remaining slingers.” The Romani fox looked at the hills along the north of the valley. “Once this Horde is in the valley, we’ll keep them from skirting the fields.”

 

“Good.” Thlayli refocused on the rampart as he ascended it. “With the reaping done and the threshing under way, the harvest should be ready to move late tomorrow or the morning after.” He put his helmet on as he saw the approaching host. “Once the grain and the farmers are away, we’ll have won.”

 

...

 

Gabrielli looked over the open ground between him and the rampart. The earth was pockmarked with holes that, if the smell was any indication, were filled with bird filth and more than likely spikes; _Lilia_ , he believed the Byzantines called them. His wolves could likely cross with little difficulty, but would be at the mercy of the defenders; slingers, if the stone he prized from Baadur’s corpse was any indication. He had brought only 100 stallions and two dozen colts as porters and could ill afford to squander his resources. He needed his enemies to keep their heads down if he was to cross this killing field with any real speed.

 

He bellowed without turning his head. “Hazim! Bring up the cannons!” An Ibex he was only passingly familiar with approached from the rear. “You are not Hazim.”

 

The cervid stopped at a respectful distance. “No, Lord _Kandak’eba_. I am Kadir, Hazim’s master alchemist.”

 

“And where, pray tell is Hazim?” Gabrielli noted Kadir flinched slightly at the implied rebuke.

 

“A thousand apologies my lord, but Lord Hazim moved to the hill above our camp.” He wilted back when Gabrielli turned his head to glare at the hill a mile to his rear. “He needs a vantage point to observe and direct the cannons.”

 

Gabrielli snorted in contempt. “Allah must have blessed him with the eyes of a hawk to see anything from that distance. Can you communicate with him?” At Kadir’s nod, he turned back to the fortifications in front of him. “Then tell him to move the cannon up here. Once the packs have cleared the southern hill, send the Janissaries there. The cannon will suppress the defenders while the archers drive them from the city. We may then advance at our leisure.”

 

“But, my Lord,” Gabrielli turned at the Ibex’s hesitant tone, “...Lord Hazim has already sent six cannon to occupy the hill. He assured that your forces would have secured it by now.”

 

The Horse Lord was on the verge of bellowing in rage when a howl came from the hill to the south. Looking over, he saw a shifting line of red and grey fleeing off the hill towards the river, while a dozen colts and three times that many _Tocpu_ ascended the hill on the western side. He vowed he would deal with Hazim’s insolence, once this valley was seized.

 

...

 

Thlayli watched as the last of the _Vulpi_ and _Naylte_ finished crossing the river, while slingers kept the wolves pursuing them at bay. He breathed a sigh of relief as he counted every mammal he had sent to the hill coming back across. This was a good sign to him; there would be losses enough in the coming days.

 

They watched as several horses mammal-handled half a dozen cannon onto the hill overlooking Azdavay. They were nearly set up when Thlayli gave the order. Three slingers each hurled a fluted clay bullet that whistled as it flew. Within moments, smoke came from small holes on the western side of the hill as rabbits shot out and raced for the river. The activity drew the attention of the Cossacks and Ottomans on the hill, though they did not move from their place as the slingers of Azdavay were still pelting them. There was a great crack and groan as a trench suddenly formed near the top of the hill just below the treeline. A few seconds later, the entire top of the hill came pouring down with a sound like rolling thunder. The invaders tried to run the way they had come or towards the river, but the onslaught of earth, wood and stone left no time for more than a pawful of animals to escape.

 

Ioan was about to signal for his slingers to attack the survivors when Thlayli put a paw on his shoulder and shook his head. “Save your stones. They’re at the edge of your range.” The hare nodded to the force massing at the end of the spike field. “They think themselves safe at that distance. We will only have this one opportunity to winnow their numbers from the safety of the wall, and I want them to bring up their archers for that lesson.” The _Vulpi_ gritted his jaw and nodded as they watched two injured horses carry a dozen sheep and wolves back up the river.

 

...

 

“Sorcery.” Gabrielli hissed out through clenched teeth as he watched several stallions help the injured colts and their mammal cargo up onto the banks of the river. “There can be no other explanation than sorcery.”

 

“My Lord, this is Heresy you speak of!” Kadir bleated in alarm. “There was no Black Magic at work on the hill.”

 

“Really? Then how has a village of farming rabbits so completely confounded us?” Hey waved a hoof at the earthworks in front of them. “How has this one community so completely humbled us if not by Sorcery? No, this is the work of The Sorcerer Rautha.”

 

“Surely not my Lord.” Kadir shook his head in disbelief. “He and the lion host of Aslani bin Aslani are in Asyria.”

 

Gabrielli took the report he had received that morning from a pouch at his waist. “My scout spotted a host of lions and bears, as well as hares on ostriches not two days from Kastamone.” Kadir read the report as Gabrielli looked on at the bedraggled animals pulled from the river. He sagged in relief when he saw Luka’s familiar muzzle. “They would have needed to depart from the front nearly a season ago to reach this spot, and we didn’t know where we would be until a few weeks ago. Had they arrived in Kastamone a week prior they would have been taken with the rest of the castle. No, this is the work of The Sorcerer. He knew, and has come to this place ahead of us to prepare.”

 

The Ottoman Ibex quaked. “”What then shall we do?”

 

“What we came here to do.” Gabrielli shook his head and nodded to the camp when Luka began coming over. “Signal Hazim to bring up the remainder of the guns. If we must make this a frontal assault then we will do so under the cover of his Falconettes, and NOT from a mile away. In the meantime I must still press our enemy.” Kadir rushed to send word to Hazim about the Ki-Rin’s orders as Gabrielli began organizing the Janissaries on the edge of the spike field behind a wall of Stallion Shieldmams.

 

Ten minutes later Gabrielli ground his teeth as Kadir approached; the Ibex’s timid mein spoke volumes about the message he carried. “A thousand apologies my Lord, but Lord Hazim cannot send...”

 

He stopped cold as the Cossack turned his glare upon him. “I have had enough of his insolence!” Gabrielli signalled for six stallions to follow him. “Direct the Janissaries to the best position to begin firing. Once I have _your_ cannon on the line, we will begin advancing on Azdavay.” He then turned, dropped to all fours and galloped to the hill where Hazim as located.

 

...

 

A high pitched call went back and forth from the north of the valley. Ioan turned to Thlayli “They are massing archers behind a shield wall on the edge of the _Lilia_ field, just as you had hoped. Though there is something else.”

 

Thlayli snorted. “It’s not as if they have any other choice. What is the ‘else’?”

 

“The stallion who leads the host, the one with a Unicorn helm, has just left for the rear with a squad.”

 

Thlayli thought for a second. “How much of the Janissary force could you hit at this time?”

 

Ioan scratched his chin. “The first two ranks are well hidden, but there are five more behind that who are without protection.”

 

The hare grinned. “When the Unicorn is halfway between the army and his camp, begin stoning the Janissaries.”

 

Ioan nodded and barked out the orders, then settled in to await the signal.

 

...

 

Gabrielli arrived at the hill to find the entire crew in panicked disarray. He was about to demand an explanation when he caught a glimpse of the van of his force; the shield line had moved back several dozen yards, and it looked as if there were only half of the Janissaries with them, though the line was in good order. He turned to locate Hazim, only to find him huddled in a corner of a small pavilion tent. Snorting in disgust he turned to the various cervids and caprids scurrying around. He snatched one up by the horns and held him at eye level. “Hazim is relieved of his duties as commander of the Tocpu.” Gabrielli made sure his voice carried well enough to be heard by the entire hill. “You and the cannon will move to the front to support the assault on Azdavay.”

 

“No!” Hazim lunged out of his tent and latched onto Gabrielli’s leg. “You cannot leave me here defenseless!”

 

The Cossack shook Hazim off with a derisive snort. “The solution to that is simple.” He set down the first Tocpu and picked up Hazim. “You will come to the front with us, as you should have from the beginning!” He resisted the urge to shake the cowering mammal, though his voice boomed louder with every word. “Had you been at the front, we might have spared your Sultan’s Tocpu and my own kin their ignominious end!”

 

He cast Hazim to the side and turned to face Azdavay. “Because of you, now we must assault a prepared, fortified valley with only half of our artillery and archers; and assault it we will!” One of his Stallions reached down to pick Hazim up again. Looking around, Gabrielli addressed the assembled mammals. “The advance is lost and we must recover whatever we can for the return to Sinope.” He gestured to the colts who had brought the cannon up the hill, and they began taking them towards the front.

 

...

 

The slingers had ceased their bombardment when the shield line moved beyond their range. Thlayli was looking at their supplies of sling stones when he cocked an ear to Ioan as another set of calls came from the hills. The fox nodded and turned to the Hare. “The Unicorn is returning with four cannon. He seems to be carrying someone by their horns.”

 

Thlayli huffed a laugh as he looked out over the _Lilia_ field. “Well it seems we know who the Cossacks blame for today’s debacle.” He stepped off the rampart, avoiding the various arrows sticking out of the ground from the Ottoman’s panicked return fire. He looked at the gap between the base of the rampart and where the arrows began and nodded. “I want half the slingers to remain here until the last minute; As with the hill, sell it dearly, but don’t pay for it with your lives.” He looked at the arrows. “Scavenge what you can so they can’t re-use it once they breach the wall, but leave this line of arrows; no one crosses this this line unless they have no choice.” He nodded to the towers. “Get your people down from the watchtowers; with the cannon in play, those are death traps now. Everyone left will leave to the north once your scouts in the hills say they are 50 paces from the rampart.”

 

Magdalena waited until everyone was delivering their orders to address him. “Are you sure this is wise Captain? I do not relish retreating, even under these circumstances.”

 

Thlayli looked around the town of Azdavay. “We were never going to hold the town; trying to do so would simply cost us lives we cannot afford to lose.” A line of foxes and rabbits made their way into the forested hillside. “We’d need twice the force we still have before I’d even consider a direct confrontation. Let them waste their efforts and their ammunition on the wall; we only need hold them to the valley or another day.”

 

...

 

Dusk was settling over the valley when Gabrielli finally strode into the town of Azdavay. He felt a surreal sense of disconnection, as the tallest building only came up to his waist. It staggered him that such a small place had cost him so much; even once the cannon were brought up and began bombarding the wall, the earthen defenses easily absorbed the punishment as his troops made their creeping advance. Eventually they had gotten close enough that the cannon shot began shearing the top of the rampart. From there, resistance from within the town ended.

 

The advance had not been without cost, though thankfully the lion's share of casualties had been paid already. He only lost two stallions; one to a lucky stone to the forehead that likely killed the horse before he hit the ground, while another had fallen over when the rain-softened earth around one of the _Lilia_ gave way, causing him to impale one of his manual hooves on another filth encrusted spike. One pack of wolves had been sent into the hills of the north side of the valley. They had not been heard from since.

 

Kadir walked up to Gabrielli as the camp followers set up the new bivouac. “Praise to Allah! We have seized this accursed town! The plan is proceeding well.”

 

Gabrielli snorted. “Yes, and it only took a day to push 500 paces. Our opponents must be quite pleased with the course of their battle plans.” Even in the waning light, Gabrielli could see the alarmed look on the Ibex’s muzzle. “Look around and tell me what you see. Better yet, tell me what you don’t see.” Gabrielli snorted at Kadir’s confused expression. “There are not only no bodies, there is no blood. For all the fire and fury we visited on this place we didn’t so much as scratch the defenders.”

 

He gestured to a void between arrows stuck in the earth and the back of the rampart. “They simply remained in this space and pummeled us as we marched forward. Once we were close enough, they departed into the safety of the hills.” He pointed north into the darkened forested hillside which had consumed one of his packs. He heaved a sigh. “In war as in personal combat, whoever controls the rhythm of the fight ultimately controls the outcome of the battle. We have not been in control of the rhythm of this battle since before we departed Kastamone.”

 

Kadir looked about ready to say something when they both heard and felt a rumbling from the north. Gabrielli growled in frustration. “What new devilry is this?”

 

...

 

Hlao was convinced, absolutely convinced that he had gone mad. He was a Majordomo, a master of Helots and now a Master of Herds in the House of Uzun; and yet here he was, leading an Ostrich stampede into the middle of an Ottoman camp. “Utter madness!” He followed Thlayli’s _tharnsi_ advice and merely guided his bird, rather than trying to command it as the flock of 100 animals crashed through tents and mammals alike. Also as he had been advised, the moment it looked as if the Cossacks were organizing he broke off, though not before overturning a cart and being covered in a black powder that reeked of sulfur and saltpeter.

 

He turned west and ran his bird for all it was worth. He saw from the corner of his eyes as rank after rank of Cossacks clashed shield to claw with his impromptu army. Just as he had expected, the Cossacks were victorious in very short order. By that point, only he and half a dozen birds remained. He turned his ears away from the carnage behind to listen for the sound of drumming in the earth, as rabbits had been left in the trap warens to signal the safe path.

 

He was so focused on the path ahead that he was nearly to the canyon when he realized his herd remnant was now five times larger. He thought Thlayli and Magdalena had ridden out to join him when a black armored hare with a bronze headed lance came alongside him. “Neither stop nor slow down.” There was neither censure nor threat in the voice, but the command was obeyed nonetheless. Hlao prayed he could be forgiven for leading these strangers into the canyon.

 

It was a few moments before the mammals at the gate sounded the alarm sounded, but by then the whole troop was through. Thlayli and what remained of his _Strutes_ came out of Medil Cavern with weapons drawn. Thlayli stopped the moment saw the new arrivals.

 

Magdalena stayed close to Thlayli while keeping her spear and eyes on the new arrivals. “Do you know these hares, Captain?”

  
Thlayli walked forward with reverent steps. “There is not an Efrafan alive who doesn’t know _Owslafa_ Adama Zethin Rautha. _M’saion Owslafa”_


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final confrontation between Gabrielli and Thlayli comes to it's bloody conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright Disclaimer
> 
> The following is a work of fanfiction: there is no intent of this author to violate, transgress, profit from or infringe upon the Copyright and Intellectual Property (IP) rights of the parent Copyright or IP holders of characters, events or locations belonging to the same which may be contained within this work. To reiterate; this is a Derivative Work meant to be used under Fair Use as described in 17 U.S.C. § 101 and § 107.

Rautha dismounted as soon as Thlayli recognized him. The younger hare approached the scarred veteran in black armor. He bowed his head, though he never broke eye contact. “ _M’saia, Owslafa Rautha._ What has brought you here? _”_

 

 _“M’saia, Owslafa Thlayli._ You have.” Thlayli started at the declaration. “Oh don’t look so surprised. When _Frith-rah_ calls, everyone hears it.”

 

As they started walking around the entrance to the cavern, Thlayli noticed the various mammals still leveling weapons on the new arrivals. He gave a quick gesture, and everyone except Magdalena returned to their duties, though she did keep a respectful distance. “Forgive me _Owslafa,_ but _...”_

 

“Adama, or Rautha-fa if you insist on being formal. We are peers now, so it would feel terribly self serving if we were to endlessly address each other as _Owslafa._ ”

 

Thlayli nodded. “Rautha-fa.” Adamo looked mildly distasteful; it was the same look Magdalena had worn when Thlayli first started calling her by her Honor-name. “What has brought you here? I had thought you were campaigning in Asyria?”

 

“Oh I was, then I dreamt of a _Nildpezel_ clashing against a cannon by the sea. I left the front to my _Nisithile_ and departed for Efrafa with a _Hrairlion_ and a Legion from Kochisar. I arrived just in time for my cousin _Marlifa_ Banu to receive word from one of her _Hrairlot_ who had traveled west to Constantinople, that Mehmed was preparing an invasion by sea of the entire Black Sea coast.” They had arrived at the threshing floor, where the rabbits of Azdavay were weaving the threshed rye stalks into baskets to carry their harvest. “Once I arrived near Kastamone, I heard tell of your raid on the Cossacks, and came here. Now,” he turned abruptly and faced Thlayli, “...tell me what has been done, what is yet needed, and how I and my _Hrayfa_ may serve the _Owslafa_ of Azdavay?”

 

...

 

Gabrielli stared in numb shock at the carnage in the camp. Mehmed’s _Tocpu_ and Janissaries were in total disarray after having a stampede run through them; the dim twilight hampering both their ability to spot the danger of the oncoming herd of black and brown birds, as well as making any meaningful pursuit impossible, save by his own wolves. Kadir was desperately trying to salvage some of the powder for the cannons, though he only had uninjured crew remaining for one of the falconettes. Gabrielli cocked his head to one side and looked at the wreckage of one of the trampled supply tents at his hooves. Fletching and broken shafts were scattered all around, while the bodies of several ostriches lay nearby; multiple arrows which had impaled the birds as they crashed through the tents sprouted from their chests and legs, even as the birds feebly cried in their death throes.

All told, the mammal cost was light: only a dozen dead, and maybe four times that many injured. Still, he thought, the Sorcerer may as well have stolen into the camp at night and slit 100 throats for the damage that had been done. Gabrielli could not imagine how they would succeed. He had to try though, and secure something, _anything,_ to help his people last through the winter. The only other option would be to retreat from Anatolia entirely and try to return to Georgia. The trees and grasses were still green, and perhaps the gift of the dead herd would provide enough sustenance for his Stallions and Wolves to survive the trek.

 

A shadow he knew well moved to his left. “Speak your peace, Luka.”

 

“My Lord,” the grey wolf sounded as weary as Gabrielli felt, “...I have sent one small scouting pack to follow the birds that made it through the camp. I also set some of the packs and colts slaughtering and dressing the fallen birds. A third yet may provide clean meat, as well as fat and marrow. For tonight at least, we will feast. We will certainly have enough ostrich skin to still be eating _Skvarky_ under the Winter Solstice.”

 

Gabrielli snorted. “That should at least put our Ottoman burden to rest, knowing our ‘tamed savage wolves’ will be sated and not feast on them in the night. I know they will turn it down, but extend our feast to them as well.” He noted how the old wolf looked towards the river as he nodded. “Was there something else?”

 

“There is, my Lord.” Luka hummed an ancient tune as he guided Gabrielli through the darkened streets of Azdavay. They arrived at the bank of the river just as the moon broke through the clouds. There in front of them were more than three dozen cairns, five of which towered over the others. Each was adorned with grave-goods ranging from the arms and shields of the Cossacks, to one pair of tiny cairns wrapped together in a fishing net. “Some of these are new, but all others are as I remember.”

 

Gabrielli stood still and gazed at the graveyard. “Bring the commanders from each section, as well as what musicians we have and have them prepare a funeral rite. These tiny, impossible creatures have respected our dead even though we are invaders. We can do no less for them.”

 

...

 

The three young wolves paused in their scenting of the trail of cannon powder when they heard the drumming and song begin near the river. Their leader yipped quietly to get their attention. “Come brothers, there will be time enough to remember once we are done here.”

 

The youngest member of the pack turned his nose back to the task at paw. He noted where the trail seemed to double back on itself several times as if trying to avoid some unseen obstacles. He ventured into one of the empty spaces, trying to see or smell whatever had caused the birds to veer. There was an odd sponginess to the ground, though all he could smell was earth and rabbit. He heard additional drumming as he brought his head closer to the ground, as well as a scratching sound that seemed to come from all around. He was about to call to the others when the earth gave way beneath him. He let out a strangled yelp of surprise before blinding, stabbing pain erupted from all directions. He felt no more.

 

The pack leader came to the place his pack mate had disappeared when the overwhelming scent of blood and rabbit hit his nose. He turned to his last pack mate to warn him when the ground gave out beneath his feet. He was thigh deep in the hole when he felt teeth and claws and knives tearing at his ankles even as he was pulled deeper into the cursed earth. He was almost chest deep a moment later when his packmate grabbed his arms and tried to pull him free “Run damn you! Ruuhhh...” Whatever terrible thing dwelt in the valley had pierced his lungs, and he was silenced.

 

The last, lone wolf scrambled back onto the path. He heard swift drumming in the earth all around, even as his kinsmen howled the funeral song to the drumming of horse hooves. He ran back to the camp, a straight line harried by the deep drumming until a hole opened in front of him. He caught the quickest glimpse of a dozen red eyes and steel daggers glinting in the moonlight before he was beset on all sides. The funeral rites of the Cossacks drowned out the sound of digging that followed.

 

...

 

Thlayli, Adama and Magdalena all stood in one of the crude watchtowers along the canyon’s easter ridge overlooking the Azdavay valley. “If the _Nayltai_ continue working at the pace they have been, the entire harvest will be ready to move by _Ni-Frith_ tomorrow. We only need to delay this ‘Thunderer’ until then. That is where we are now.” Thlayli knelt. “Until you arrived, I didn’t know how I was going to accomplish that. Some of the _Nayltai_ have remained in the trap warrens, even after guiding Hlao back. I can’t blame them, but I have no desire to throw them away as the Cossacks will surely destroy them after a few attacks.”

 

Thlayli stood and turned to face the two with him. “With you and your _Hrayfa_ , I think, I know I can stall the Cossack advance. The _Hlien_ are the key.” He glanced at the valley as the Cossack funeral rites started to wind down. “It has been the one consistent facet of my dream these past months. The Cossacks will soon learn that the fields have been undermined and will be forced to follow the clear path in column, rather than in battleline. The _Hlien_ are all interconnected, and are just large enough for our  _Vulpi_ allies to pass through. I will line the path on both sides with half of my remaining forces. When The Ottomans and Cossacks are fully on the path we will break out, injure or cripple as many in one pass as possible, and retreat into the _Hlien_ on the other side.”

 

Adama scratched his chin thoughtfully while Magdalena looked on in concern. “It’s a good plan on the face of it, but to effect this tactic you will need the column to stop.”

 

Thlayli nodded. “And that is where your _Hrayfa_ come in; my _Strutes_ are all seasoned fighters, but only passable riders. We are some years yet from being an effective cavalry force that you and yours are. With the Horde in column, you may attack the Van and only face a fraction of their force. That should stop them in their tracks, and that is when we will attack.”

 

Magdalena’s foot drummed on the tower floor. “And of course you will be in the _Hlien_ ?” She growled when Thlayli nodded. “This is precisely how Uzun _Videre_ inevitably die! What will you do then? What should I tell my aunt then?”

 

Thlayli gave her a grin. “Then I should stand before _Frith-rah_ with my ears held high, as I will have lived a meaningful life. As for you, I suspect that conversation would have to wait until she joined us in _Frithrah’s Owsla_ , since I can’t see you leaving my side for this battle.” He noted the slightly distressed look on her muzzle as he turned to face the valley again. “I should think we will only have two opportunities at most to try this tactic. The Thunderer seems able to adapt well, even if he does have Rabscuttle’s luck. Once harvest is underway to Hadrianopolis, along with Hlao and our wounded, we’ll retire the field; there would be no point in fighting after that.”

 

“Well then,” Adama pointedly ignored the interplay between the two younger hares, “...we should settle in. We have a busy day ahead of us.”

 

...

 

Gabrielli stood in his armor looking across the valley of Azdavay. His Horde was bolstered by the feast the night before, as well as the opportunity to properly mourn their losses. He himself was concerned about the absence of the scouting pack by dawn. This valley seemed to exist to devour his host. He shook his head and put his helmet on. “Form on the line!” The host formed up with the packs in a loose line in front, followed by a staggered line of his armored Stallions, and the surviving Ottoman _Janissaries_ equipped as light infantry bringing up the rear, save for a dozen who received what arrows had survived the stampede. The _Tocpu_ and the cannon remained behind; they would be brought up once the valley had been cleared so the advance wouldn’t be delayed by the slow movement of the porters.

 

“Scouts, advance.” At his order, the line of wolves began making their way across the fields. They had advanced twenty paces and he was preparing to order the main battle line to advance when several wolves at points on the line howled a warning and stopped.

 

Kadir fidgeted behind Gabrielli. “What is happening now, my Lord?”

 

Gabrielli watched as word passed up and down the scout line and a runner was sent back to him. “We shall know in a moment. Report!”

 

The wolf, a pup barely old enough to serve in the host, knelt at his hooves. “ _Ki-Rin Kandak-Eba_ , the ground is strange to the touch. It is only on the path taken by the birds where it is not so, and that path winds back and forth on the field like a serpent.”

 

“Show me.” The pup led him a few paces forward and paused, testing the ground with the butt of his spear. “Step aside.” Once the young wolf moved away, Gabrielli slammed the base of his shield into the ground causing an ankle deep hole to open up. “Is this what everyone is feeling?”

 

“Yes my lord; there seems no pattern, but...”

 

Gabrielli looked out over the length of the valley with a tired respect. “The entire valley will be riddled with these traps meant to break a Stallion’s legs.” He pondered for a moment, then turned his head to the rear. “Kadir! Bring Hazim up here.” The frazzled former master of the _Tocpu_ was brought up by a squad of _Janissaries_ , his manual hooves bound with rope. Gabrielli looked to the pup. “Find me another.”

 

A few moments later the young wolf was pointing to a spot. Gabrielli looked at Hazim. “Stand where he points.” Hazim timidly stepped forward and stood where he was told. Though the earth sagged slightly, it did not give way. “Jump.” Hazim looked perplexed until Gabrielli’s gaze became a withering glare. He jumped as commanded, and on his third hop one of his hooves broke through the sod. The goat collapsed to the ground with a panicked scream until the Horse lord lifted him by his horns and dropped him in front of the _Janissaries._

 

He turned to the pup once more. “Show me this path.” The sun was fully visible over the east of the valley when they came to the beaten track of earth. Gabrielli could see it slithering back and forth as the pup had described. He looked to Kadir again. “Have the fletched portions of all the broken arrows brought up. You,” he turned his attention to the young wolf again, “...call up your close pack, and when the fletchings arrive you will mark out this path as wide as four stallions abreast.”

 

There was a scurry of activity while the path was marked out. Gabrielli re-ordered his battle lines, so that the _Janissaries_ followed behind the scouts, with his stallions forming a column three abreast. Once reordered and with the path ahead being marked, he ordered the advance to begin anew. He decided to keep Hazim with him, should he need to test the earth again.

 

“Most cunning my lord!” Hazim simpered to Gabrielli.

 

“Yes it is; our enemy must be most pleased with the delay in our progress this has caused.”

 

...

 

Adama watched as the newly reorganized battle line began it’s slow advance. His senior most _Owsla_ sidled his mount up to him. “So much for hitting the column’s Van.”

 

Adamo huffed. “Peace now. You have a grandson only a few seasons younger than _Owslafa_ Thlayli.” He noted that his subordinate nodded in deference at the honorific. “This may work to our advantage yet. Their archers are in the vanguard, rather than behind the Cossacks. I have to agree with the young _ethrahnild_ ; I don’t relish the idea of tackling the column without our own Leonin or Ursine Cataphracts.”

 

A chuff came from his comrade. “A company of Byzantine Bear Cavalry would be a comfort right now.”

 

They both settled in to wait. It was an hour later when the drumming of dozens of rabbit feet could be felt through the ground. Adamo noted as more and more rabbits joined in that even the Ottomans could hear it, and were unnerved. He waited until the horse line came upon a particularly winding section of the path to order his attack.

 

The _Hrayfa_ broke out of the forest in three lines and charged the oncoming light infantry force. As soon as they came to the fields, they allowed the drumming in the earth to signal where the _Hlien_ were. Years of experience on ostrich back allowed the 24 strong cavalry unit to navigate the field at a dead run. The line of wolves rushed forward to meet them, though Adamo had no intention of engaging. He and the _Hrayfa_ leapt over the scouts and headed into the light infantry line behind them. The efforts to avoid the pits in the field made the attempts by the archers to hit them a near futile gesture. They were still ten paces away when they flank turned into a single column and rode parallel to the infantrymem and began pouring shot after shot from their own composite bows. They disengaged after a few moments and rushed back towards the canyon.

 

As the _Janissaries_ were reeling from the cavalry attack that had cost them a quarter of their number, the earth beside the archers burst in a dozen different places as foxes and hares poured out, lashing out at the legs and ankles of the distracted Ottomans. Several Cossacks broke ranks to rush to the Janissaries aid, only to stumble over hidden warrens. Where a wolf or a sheep would fall into a hole and bruise themselves, the Cossacks tripped and found their ankles trapped and broken by the pits. They could only look on helplessly as the smaller animals broke from their own devastating attack and dove into warrens that opened nearby just as the wolves finally returned from their fruitless pursuit.

 

They were desperately searching the area for where the small mammals might be when cries of pain and alarm rose from the rear of the horse column. A new set of warrens had opened up and disgorged murderous hares and foxes at two different points along the path. Once again the small mammals flashed among the legs of their adversaries, slashing tendons as they went. They didn’t tary to finish off the crippled horses, and disappeared into the earth as new warrens opened again.

 

Gabrielli bellowed for the force to present shields, and a solid wall of wood and steel was dropped into the ground. At his next command, the remaining _Janissaries_ withdrew into the protective column. He cringed when he saw only one archer in the entire group, while on the ground where they had stood were nearly a dozen bows with cut strings. He recalled the scouts at the sight of the cavalry wheeling around again. There were a few probing attacks that followed, though the tiny bows of the hares couldn’t hope to pierce the Cossack shields. He was more concerned with the possibility of burrowers undermining the path ahead and behind when a shrill call came from the western edge of the valley. The ostriches immediately wheeled about and headed towards the call. At the same time, the droning from within the earth abruptly ceased. It was some minutes later when he saw rank after rank of hares, rabbits and foxes pour out of the earth just before the treeline. One hare in bronze paused to look back at the battlefield, only for a second jet black hare to take the first by the shoulder and guide them into the forest.

 

“At ease.” Gabrielli’s order caused the tense line of horses to relax their shields. He looked behind him in dismay; He had come to this valley with 100 stallions, and now only 60 remained who could fight. Of the 200 wolves and 200 _Janissaries_ , barely 100 total remained, to say nothing of the ruin visited upon the _Tocpu._

 

“They’ve gone? What does it mean? Is it over?” Hazim’s frantic voice cut through Gabrielli’s thoughts, though he could not muster the energy to censure the panicked goat.

 

The warhorse gave a defeated sigh. “Yes, they’ve gone, and it means they have nothing else to protect in this valley. We’ve lost.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thlayli accepts his place in Efrafan society, culture and history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright Disclaimer
> 
> The following is a work of fanfiction: there is no intent of this author to violate, transgress, profit from or infringe upon the Copyright and Intellectual Property (IP) rights of the parent Copyright or IP holders of characters, events or locations belonging to the same which may be contained within this work. To reiterate; this is a Derivative Work meant to be used under Fair Use as described in 17 U.S.C. § 101 and § 107.

Gabrielli stood at the head of his column of troops, pondering his next move as wolves guided the efforts of some of the stallions to extricate their brethren from the trapped earth. A slight comotion drew his attention to the rear of his formation. He turned and saw the column cautiously parting to allow an Arabian in Mehmed’s personal livery through. Hazim noticed the messenger and began laughing. “My Lord Mehmed has come to our aid! Now, Lord of Horses, you shall see a true master of war!”

 

The Arabian took no notice of the goat as he approached. “ _Tahiat tayiba_ Lord Gabrielli.” The animal’s clothes were soaked through with sweat.

 

Gabrielli gave his canteen to the runner, who grasped it between unsplit hooves. Once the desert horse had drunk fully and was shivering less, Gabrielli took his canteen back. He resisted the urge to scowl at the Arabian’s discomfort upon seeing Gabrielli’s own split and gilded hooves. “ _Tahait tayiba._ What word from Sultan Mehmed?”

 

The messenger drew himself up and addressed Gabrielli. “ _Allahu Akbar,_ Muhammad al Fatih is arrived in Sinope and commands his forces return to him at once to fortify the city.”

 

Gabrielli’s mind raced. He knew well the supply situation that had led him to venturing out into Anatolia in the first place. If Mehmed had been driven out of Edirne and fled to Sinope, it would be with his whole court and what military forces he could muster; the situation in Sinope would become dire before the Solstice Moon rose, to say nothing of lasting to Spring. The only mammals that would fare remotely well in the coastal city would be his own wolves; while they might stave off hunger with fish, the fear and jealousy of the herbivorous Ottomans would surely do them in.

 

He locked eyes with the Arabian. “Return to the camp by the earthworks. I must secure us safe passage.” He turned without waiting for the messenger to acknowledge him and began making his way along the path to the West. Luka dutifully moved ahead, singing an ancient tune to guide his master over the safe earth.

 

He was distracted from Luka as Hazim began ranting next to him. “We shall demand they give us a tribute of their grain! They have fled the battlefield, so they must recognize Mehmed’s authority! They must return my _Hashishim_!” The frantic goat stumbled to a halt when he reached the end of his cable tow and turned to face Gabrielli. Hazim’s eyes were wide and panicked, even as his words were as bombastic as the cannon he so prized. “They must! I cannot return to my Lord Mehmed so shamed!”

 

Gabrielli considered the pitiable creature in front of him. “If you are silent, then when we arrive at the Sorcerer’s camp I will inquire after your bodyguards.” When the goat’s jaw clicked shut, Gabrielli nodded to Luka and they resumed their trek to the mouth of the Canyon.

...

 

Thlayli, Magdalena, Mora and Ioan made their way back to the canyon through the forest. They crested the ridge and saw the remainder of the _Vulpi_ with the _Strutes’_ ostriches, as well as Owslafa Rautha and his _Hrayfa._ Thlayli stopped just inside the camp and sat down with a thump. Adama rode over as Magdalena knelt beside him. “Captain?” When he didn’t respond she turned his face to her. “Thlayli?”

 

The young hare blinked owlishly for a moment. “It’s over; the dream is done.” He looked at the assembled mammals around him. “I, I don’t know what to do now.”

 

Magdalena looked on in growing concern as Adama dismounted and knelt in front of the stunned Efrafan. “You face Westward, and you don’t look back.”

 

Thlayli looked to the west and found himself staring into Magdalena’s eyes. He glanced at Rautha again. “What of the _Veheer_?”

 

Magdalena sighed and rested her forehead against his. “Let visions attend to themselves; if they happen, we... I will help guide you.”

 

“She speaks truth boy.” Thlayli looked to the _Owaslafa_ again. “Trying to chase _Veheer_ is what birthed the _Brahlrahai Kehar._ ” Everyone involuntarily looked to the bottom of the canyon where the broken remains of the seven _Fida’im_ were still being picked over by crows and vultures. Adama continued without looking from the mammalian wreckage. “In ages past, those who sought to use _Veheer,_ to force and bend the visions to their own aims became obsessed with preventing their own deaths until death was all they could see. _Kehar_ took their minds and wills and now all they wish for is to join with _Inle-Rah,_ and they will do anything to achieve whatever the visions tell them. To seek after _Veheer_ is madness. You must look to the future, not try to bend it to your will.”

 

Thlayli sat in wonder for a moment until an alarm bark sounded from the ridge above. Ioan looked to the surrounding mammals. “One of the Cossacks approaches.”

 

Everyone was readying for battle or a quick retreat when Thlayli stood up. “Let him enter.” Adama looked on in curiosity as everyone else gawked for a moment. “We mount and be ready to fight or move, but I do not think that is why this one approaches.”

 

Mora hesitated as he mounted. “And how do you know this?”

 

Thlayli settled into _Nildhristhol’s_ saddle and readied his lobed spear. “I don’t, but there’s no point in further fighting. Besides, we just fought off his army and now he comes alone? No; he is here for another purpose and I would know it.” The forces of Efrafa, Constantinople and Wallachia arrayed themselves at the gates and awaited the coming horse.

...

 

Gabrielli, Luka and Hazim arrived at the entrance to the canyon to find a simple wooden palisade gate that was chest high to the horse. The gates themselves were open, and arrayed on the other side were two ranks of ostrich cavalry; black armored hares on one side, and half as many bronze armored mammals of different types on the other. There were several score foxes with spears and bows flanking the canyon walls. At the head of the causeway formed by the cavalry were three ostrich mounted hares: one brown in bronze chain, one black in bronze chain and one brown in black carboullie. ‘This third one,’ Gabrielli thought to himself, noting the presence and clear respect held by all present for the black-clad hare, ‘...this is the Sorcerer I have been facing.’ He was about to speak when the black, as well as the black-clad hares parted to their respective lines leaving the brown hare in bronze. Even being unfamiliar with hares, he could see this one was young; a colt barely old enough to fight, much less lead.

 

He was again caught off guard when the young hare spoke. “Are you the Lord of Song and Thunder?” The small animal spoke in heavily accented Arabic as he stared intently at Gabrielli, his eyes piercing into the equine lord in a way he had never experienced.

 

“He is Lord Gabrielli, _Kandak-eba_ , the Righteous Thunder of Mehmed the Conqueror!” Gabrielli’s eyes bulged as Hazim began ranting. “I demand you surrender and return my _Fida’im_  at once!”

 

The Cossack snatched Hazim up by his horns even as Luka moved to try to defend his master from the assembled hares and foxes. “You do not speak for me!” He then threw the goat at the feet of the lead hare. “Take him! He is a blight upon my existence, and without his precious cannon or _Hashishim_ less than worthless. Take him and grant my people safe passage from this land and we will depart.”

 

The hare stared impassively at the wretched mammal before him. “The _Brahlrahai Kehar_ were yours? The _Fidai’im_ who stole into our camp as we slept?” Gabrielli noted one of the foxes tensing to leap as Hazim nodded frantically. “Come; I will show them to you.”

 

He wheeled around and followed a path along the edge of the canyon wall. “I suppose this is fortuitous; I have received word that Edirne was sacked and Mehmed fled by sea. Imagine the _Voivode_ Vlad Tepisch will be swift behind him. We have heard of ‘The Impaler’s’ wrath, even in Efrafa; I would imagine his wroth will be quite great at Mehmed slipping his grasp.”

 

They arrived at the mouth of a cavern. The hare pointed into the depths of the canyon below, where several black-clad corpses could be seen being ravaged by scavenger birds. “There are your assassins.” Hazim wailed in alarm and made to turn away, only to face the furious gaze and bared teeth of a score of snarling foxes. “I give you a choice.” Hazim looked up at the hare in fear and hope. “Join your precious _Fida’im_ in the canyon below, or give yourself over to the _Vulpi_ and ultimately to Tepisch- _rah.”_ Hazim turned and faced the canyon depths, but stumbled backwards into the paws of the waiting foxes. They dragged him screaming towards the west.

 

The young hare turned to Gabrielli. The elder Warhorse noted the look of appreciation in the eyes of those around him and thought, perhaps, this was not the ignominious defeat he had thought, but an inevitability. The hare addressed him again. “You ask for passage through Anatolia. Do you seek to rejoin Mehmed?”

 

Gabrielli snorted. “No, this entire campaign was cursed from the beginning. It is clear to me now that Allah does not wish for Mehmed to conquer this land.” He looked to Luka and spoke. “I will lead my clan home to Georgia and to the Steppes of our ancestors.”

 

The young hare nodded and looked to the black clad hare. The elder buck chuckled and nodded in return. “I will escort your people along a safe road. You shall come to no harm, as long as the land comes to no harm.”

 

Gabrielli sighed in relief. “ _Allahu Akbar._ ” The various animals began heading to the palisades. “A moment.” The assembled host turned to face him. “I would have the name of the one who bested me, that I may carry your name to my Homeland.”

 

The young hare looked to those around him, then turned to Gabrielli.

 

...

 

“He then declared, ‘I am Thlayli, _Owslafa_ of Efrafa’.” Jacob sat back as he finished the story.

 

Everyone started as the streetlamps outside the church gazebo kicked on. They then noticed the crowd had somewhat dispersed from Katarin’s and Kadir’s wedding reception on the green of Abram’s Square. Even Jacob was surprised at the lateness of the hour.

 

Nick rubbed Zabrina’s back. “You okay Honey?” He glanced at the silver vixen, who was still  sniffling.

 

She nodded. “Yes, it’s just sad hearing how my ancestor Ileana died.”

 

Most of the gathered mammals gaped between her and Jacob. He shrugged. “Our families have a very, _very_ long history. It’s one of the reasons the Adames sponsored my mother and grandfather’s immigration to Zootopia.”

 

Nick shook his head. “And here I thought I had an in with everyone.”

 

Zabrina grinned and kissed his cheek. “You do now.”

 

Valerie stood and stretched. “Well I don’t know about anyone else but I’ve got an early morning tomorrow. Thanks again Nick, for the list.” She held a paw out for Jacob.

 

As everyone stood, Nick looked at the black hare. “One thing; you kept saying, ‘as he saw in his vision’, but you never said what that vision was.”

 

Jacob paused and looked at nothing for a second. “The _Veheer_ are deeply personal to each family, and we each are somewhat jealous in guarding those visions; but as _Owslafa_ Rautha taught Thlayli, we should not dwell on them.”

 

Dickie paused and looked somewhat puzzled at Jacob. “But you were very direct about _Stirathrah’s_ vision.”

 

Valerie smiled at the buck. “That _veheer_ belongs to all Efrafans and their descendants. Since there is no one left of the line of Ephraim, we must all carry it’s light forward.”

 

Jacob draped an arm over Valerie’s shoulder. “Someday soon, I’ll be able to read the _Veheer_ of Valerie’s family, and she mine; but that is then. This is now, and now...” he stepped off the gazebo and gestured to his friends, “... I owe you all a dinner for talking your ears off throughout the reception.” The gathered mammals all set out towards the West: to the future, and also to ‘Fang’s Garden’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank everyone who stuck with me through this story. The story of the Sons of Efrafa is far from over.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is an exercise in alternate history and world building that I hope you will enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing. I would like to especially thank my betas, Steve Gallacci and Ubermunchkin for their valiant efforts to keep this story from going completely off the rails.


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